The Moon

The moon greeted me this morning as it hung low in the sky. It watched me get into my car and I wondered what it knew that I didn't. Had I continued to look, I might have seen the moon wink. If only the moon could talk, I would think the stories it could tell would be spellbinding. How many lovers have taken refuge in its light on a warm summer night? How many romantic tables have been set with the moon and candles for ambiance?

Nights were made for harboring the secrets of lovers wrapped in the embrace of darkness and each other. The stars are our bedcovers and perspiration our aphrodisiac. No love potion is needed as they drink of each other. Music is provided by a myriad of sounds natural to the season. Crickets sing their melodies in tune to distant traffic with an occasional horn for emphasis. Harmony is provided in the owl with his infamous question of “Who?”

Whispers are echoed in the stillness until they reach the edge of oblivion. Nonsense becomes most significant under the cover of romance. And, ecstasy rules the world. The softest sensations intensify in the darkness and fingers find feather touches that roam wherever the will takes them. This is the time where we live in the moment, for the moment. All other concerns fade with the first brush of lips against skin.

The moon hears the promises made and those broken. It bears first witness to conception of future plans and future beings. And, it patiently waits night after night to observe the fruits of such promises.