The Glowing Inconstant Moon

Have you ever noticed that when the moon is waxing (getting bigger) or full, that the light that it casts on the ground is not only the usual adjectives (eerie, glowing, soft, etc.), and seems to emanate not from the orb in the sky, but from the ground below?

The sky is dark, but the buildings, trees, plants, grass, the pool, even the dog seem to glow from within. Details are oddly visible against a darkened backdrop... it is almost as if we are simply wearing dark glasses, but the object of our focus is still illuminated...

So odd.

But, on further reflection, that isn't strictly true. Some things remain deep in darkness, rising like barely discernable wraiths gracefully dancing in and out of our vision, implying secret worlds and hidden realms just barely glimpsed but not... quite... able to be seen.

How often have you been outside in the evening and spent several moments trying to make out a shape deep in the shadows? You almost recognise it and even attempt to trangulate its position with the objects that you CAN see. And you still can't quite make it out.

It is as if the object is giggling in and out of our reality, amused at our sudden puzzled attention... And we get up and walk over, squinting in the distance, toward its inevitable discovery looming with increasing importance until it suddenly snaps into focus and... wow. *mental head slap* Some innocuous object that you actually forgot was in your yard.

Maybe the moon is in collusion with the inanimate objects in your yard: your lawn chairs, bikes, kids' toys, shed, each calmoring for their turn to fool you at the next waxing moon... And to order, the moon selectively illuminates, and hides, random things to force us to notice the ordinary, the things that we take for granted that surround us and are acually part of our world.

Wow.

That was random.

Sooooooo... let's recap:

The moon makes things look all glowy and that is pretty cool.


Just Musing,
Susan

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Poetry - The Birth of Waves

This is one of my favorite poems, written in one of my several forays back to college...








THE BIRTH OF WAVES





The moon has fallen in love


with the sea,





Her gifts of sparkling jewels


dance lightly over his still, deep expanses;


her lonely sighs softly illuminate


his empty sandy shores;


she skisses will silver brilliance


his wide and motionless body.





Touched by her gifts


and intrigued by her silvery grace,


the sea, with a mighty force


arches his back to reach her:


to bathe in her glowing light


and touch her shining face.


But he is pulled back


by jealous Gravity, his wife,


and with a roar of anguish,


crashes


back


to earth.











(c) Susan Quinland-Stringer 1995