January 6: Letter from the Moon
Kristen Lindquist
I had trouble falling asleep last night, which was unexpected because I've been sleeping between 10-12 hours a night lately thanks to being sick. As I was wandering around the house at 1:00 a.m., wide-awake, I became aware that it was really bright outside. No wonder I couldn't sleep: the waxing gibbous moon was beginning its descent behind the bare limbs of the backyard. Moonlight flickered on the river's surface, and the whole yard looked silvery pale, almost eerie. I peered out the back window, hoping to see some animal activity, some sign of life moving in the night besides myself... nothing but light.
The interior of the house was fully illuminated, as well. A white square of light glowed atop a small table in the living room. Without my glasses, for a moment I perceived this as a solid, paper-like object--an envelope, perhaps--until I realized it was just a lunar illusion, a trick of moonlight.
If only I could
open the moon's bright letter
cast on the table.
The interior of the house was fully illuminated, as well. A white square of light glowed atop a small table in the living room. Without my glasses, for a moment I perceived this as a solid, paper-like object--an envelope, perhaps--until I realized it was just a lunar illusion, a trick of moonlight.
If only I could
open the moon's bright letter
cast on the table.