In Shadows of the Moon

The full moon shines brightly tonight as it catches rays from the sun and reflects light back to this dark side of the earth.

The moon looks warm, even as the temperature drops trying to chase the warmth of life away.

The circle light bulb in the sky is comforting, peaceful, with shadows on the surface.  I strain, squinting to see the shadows.  It’s too bright to see with eyes wide open, too dark with eyes half closed and somewhere in between, there’s a sweet spot to see the moon shadows.

When shadows come into focus, there are shapes, places, people, even thoughts written in clouds on the blackboard of night.

Small, distant stars wink, as if they see and understand all that is going on thousands upon thousands of light years away.  I squint again to see what those moon shadows are….

My mind drifts to a familiar place permanently etched in the mind.

There’s a place far down Surfside beach where people don’t go, where there are no houses, where bull reds run.

In Shadows of the Moon

It’s just short of paradise.  It’s where on a night like tonight, the only light is this same full moon playing shadows on its surface. Its long silvery ribbon reflects on the water like a kite tail and dances from side to side on the waves.

And there’s a camp fire, fueled by drift wood that came from who knows where, that lightly pops and occasionally sends sparks out in a miniature firework display.

The sound of the breaking waves sing an unscripted chorus of organized chaos.

Soft, dry sand turns and twists under foot, and whatever angle the ankle makes is how the sand turns.

The soft sand suddenly rolls solid and steady as it reaches to the sea water wanting to be washed and rolled by the salty surf.  It gives a false sense of security, pretending to be stable, but possibly changing to a sinking sand at any minute. In The Shadows of the Moon story

By moonlight, a hermit crab struggles with its claw to turn its shell back upright after being washed ashore only to have the water quickly retreat and leave it exposed.

Seagulls and killdees call in the distance, and the feel of the humid breeze hits the skin in a steady, massaging push.

It’s perfectly quiet, yet the sounds of waves and wind, birds and fire, deafen and drown anything other than what the beach is saying to the soul.

The wind carries the smells of sea life, and death, as it journeys on to its secret destination.

Settling by the fire, the warmth and comfort of dancing flames become mother nature’s blanket.

It’s all so familiar, so refreshing, so complete and real, so in the shadows of the moon.  It’s where time begins, and maybe ends. It’s where troubles can be washed away, and peace gently dries the soul.

Tonight, that’s not where I am, but that’s where I’m at.


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