Last night after a dinner picked from the garden my visitors from the city and the dogs and I walked down the back and sat in the long grass for a long time, watching the Sly Silvery Full Moon steal all the light from the sky. Watching it rise and glow. And flourish.
It was huge this moon on Friday the 13th. But – no pictures of that night. How can a camera even begin to capture the soft moon-lit outline of a dogs panting profile, or the horizon of muted pathetic man made lights blinking wanly out across the grassy plains, dwarfed and squished by the giant footsteps of l the moons light soaring through the skies, the curious moonlight catching the young mouth and long eyelashes of a magicked child or the gentle voice of a friend talking of all those things only the moon will hear. The things the sun shines too brightly on. We talked softly or sat quiet and still in the long sleeping grasses, long into the night.
Hush though. My visitors from the city are still asleep in the bright country morning light in The Coupe. The dogs are laid at the door to The Coupe their toys laid optimistically across their paws, heads down, eyes up, waiting for the children to come out and play.
I pause in my mornings work for a coffee and a good morning with you, at the beginning of another moonless day. On my journey to another moonful night.
Have a lovely day.
Your friend on the farm