The moon is a rounded doily in the eastern sky and its lower half disappears into blue as the sun dips across the way. Most every evening one goes down as the other goes up and tonight I witness this slow passing—these two sky-sisters hang almost parallel and the shy moon seems to disappear in the glow cast by the other’s light.
I look close and watch as those threads of light weave over and around this marbled earth and she-moon’s pale face—how she becomes lace…invisible. The mist of her hovers in air and the still small whisper of her makes my breath catch and it’s the looking close into the sky that speaks beauty to me tonight—such diminutive grace.
And no matter what this moon does she cannot change who she is in this moment. Outshined. And don’t we know that when she tries to stand too close…this is when she disappears entirely?
I stand with my back to the setting sun—to all that sky-fire—and I watch grace ride out the light. Not just anyone can see this beauty…it takes a discriminatory eye. A looking close. It takes wise eyes to see that she is exactly who God intended her to be. And in just a while, she will continue that slow rise until she is crowned queen of the night sky. And all who see her will feel her pull.
But me? I like her best all soft with lace…a whisper-full of grace.
Sharing with my friend Laura L. Barkat today: