Tonight, the night is wearing her prettiest moon.
Not full, with the werewolf light you could almost read by; nor yet gibbous, with that asymmetrical plumpness that sets one's eyes on edge; nor even Cheshire, with all its connotations and annotations - no, tonight's moon is the moon of December two years ago, of moonlit night rides on the back of strangers' motorcycles, of T on her first real grand adventure.
It is this moon, and this moon, and this moon.
:)
And tomorrow, pictures of fireplaces.
Not full, with the werewolf light you could almost read by; nor yet gibbous, with that asymmetrical plumpness that sets one's eyes on edge; nor even Cheshire, with all its connotations and annotations - no, tonight's moon is the moon of December two years ago, of moonlit night rides on the back of strangers' motorcycles, of T on her first real grand adventure.
It is this moon, and this moon, and this moon.
:)
And tomorrow, pictures of fireplaces.
