Moonlight Invitation
Moonlight woke me this morning. It poured through our back windows at 4 a.m. A pool of white light, a bright beacon.
I had no intention of walking in it, but still, it posed an invitation, perhaps even a summons. Get up, savor the moment, look at the faraway, inscrutable, silent, brilliant moon.
And so I did. The orb bathed our backyard in a strange glow, neither night nor day. It made me think of places where moonlight lights the way for travelers and smugglers and lost souls. It was like a dream, except it wasn’t.
When I drove to work this morning, the moon was still up, a tamer version of its earlier wild self. I could almost pretend it wasn’t there.
2 thoughts on “Moonlight Invitation”
I sleepily commented to my husband this morning, as the moonlight was so bright it woke us both, that we were in danger of a moonburn. Very, very bright and beautiful.
In Benin, on a night with a moon so full and bright it would illuminate the darkest and remotest corners of the village, the place would come alive with activity: dancing, drums, running children, laughter, good smells, animated talk, energy. "On va tapper ce soir" and life took on an ethereal vitality. Was it "Where the Wild Things Are?" Was it Conrad's "Heart of Darkness?" No, it was a night of free lighting and fun, and so it would go on into the wee hours of the morning. Then would come the wakening inquiry, "Et la fatigue d'hier?" or Et la nuit? C'etait bien passe?"