Moon Child



The moon has always held a special fascination for me. When I was a little girl growing up in a far, faraway land, I would go stand by the window and wait for the moon to come look for me...

As soon as she appeared I was summoned out to the garden...

I was sure if I looked at the moon for a long time I could see things no one else could. The moon must have mystified me, because on those nights when only a narrow crescent of the moon was seen, I could see the rest of it faintly outlined, and could also see how that part of the moon, half hidden from our sight, illuminated the entire earth... it was a magical time, a time to dream and to stretch out my arms and touch the very moon. Wind, rain or snow I was always there; waiting for the moon to invite me walk the night in her silver shone...

I want to tell you the night knows this, that the moon dressed in her pearly dress can swift you away in the endless sky, that it can carry you from star to star and swing you to sleep in a cradle made of silvery light... but would you believe me? 

What do you see when you look at the moon? Do you think the shadows look like a face? The Japanese see a rabbit in the dark patches on the moon. I see butterflies patterns as it draws nearer, and I see serenity, tranquility, mystery, and intrigue.  I see a promise--a fresh new start.

I love the tender brilliance of the moon casting shadows across the garden from so far away...

I remember vividly how I used to be in awe of the moon following us home after church. How could it do that? I used to love that it would do a slow dance across the sky every night, always surprising me where it would end up...

As I grew older, I realized that it always danced the same dance. A dance from one side to the other, consistent in its course... like a good mariner steering through the seas from one shore to another, from sunset to sunrise...

Sitting here tonight in the stillness of my cozy cottage watching the moon sending its light through the window, patterning the garden with shadows, adding character to the night, a wondrous tale is revealed to me...

Tonight, I'll wish upon the moon, not a star, but the moon. Your wishes would have more hope of coming true, for the moon is brighter, and bigger...
 
Child Moon by Carl Sandburg: The child's wonder at the old moon Comes back nightly. She points her finger to the far silent yellow thing shining through the branches filtering on the leaves a golden sand, crying with her little tongue, "See the moon!" And in her bed fading to sleep with babblings of the moon on her little mouth.

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