The curtains were blown into the room by the frosty winter wind. The misty sky was wearing a cloak of wispy cirri. And there. The ivory orb smiled silently down to earth.
Its glow was peaceful, serene – even magical. It was a glow that soothed the mind and calmed the soul; a glow that touched the heart. It hung over the earth like a jewel – a jewel on black velvet and surrounded by faraway stars. Slowly, a drizzle fell to the ground, each droplet illuminated by the silvery sphere’s light. Like falling crystals.
The pearly globe’s crater-covered face peeped through the clouds. The sky was a dark, inky black studded with diamonds. She stood by the window, feeling the wind lift her hair, smelling the sweet, watery scent of the rain. She watched clouds drift across the orb.
The contrast nature has made, she thought. White moon, black sky. And yet. It was perfect. It was the art of the Artist. The drip-drip-drip of the raindrops was the poem of the Poet. What is Nature, she wondered, but a work of art? The moon shone down at her; streaks of moonlight entered her room.
And slowly, as the sky began edging toward dawn, a light glowed from behind the hills. The sun was rising.
As it rose above the horizon, and as the moon began sliding down, she was struck by another thought.
May, 2024
