rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Enjoying the Moon

Pizza=intense indigestion=inability to focus=television. I'll try to catch up here tonight.

With no clouds to soften its light, and its brightness having driven away most of the stars, the lonely moon passed the night isolated, casting stark shadows and being barked at by dogs. It yellowed in its last hour, and called to mind pale honey. Even at its most austere, I find a certain sweetness in the moon. When it isn't honey, or ripe melon, or tangy tangerine, it is icy vanilla. I never lose my taste for it, even in the worst of times. It's good to know that it is unlikely to get away any time soon, and will always be there, swinging around the earth, playing with the planetary shadow, even when I can't see it. It's something I'll probably never get to touch, but is as present in my world as the mountains and streams and woods. For some reason, I find that comforting.
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