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That moon, Me

You know what I like?
I like waking up in the morning and still seeing the white scape of the moon
in the morning sky.
And it’s imprinted in the blue just like it was the night before
when I saw it, driving home from a movie.
It’s like a clear white snowy version of what it was 12 hours ago,
a fiery yellow ball of the moon
like what I would imagine a tiger’s eye would be
staring at me in the dark,
or the eye of something that my daughter imagines in her room when she can’t fall asleep.

Anyway –
I like that imprint in the morning,
a sign that it is still there,
that it can take many forms, but it is still there.

The fading scuff on the blue jean knee of the open sky
is like the new wrinkle you notice in the mirror
when you wake up, telling you
the time has passed
but some things are still the same.
Or the happy fuzzy feeling you wake up with
after a night out with a dear friend,
and the conversations and the energy seem to hang in the air
with the taste of whiskey and orange
still in your mouth.
Or how you can recall how a kiss felt by closing your eyes and touching your lips and it brings you
to sigh.

You know,
maybe it’s because I want my life to be like the moon’s,
something I know is always there and living
and showing up, but doesn’t always look the same.

Regardless, now that I’m done writing this,
the moon is gone for now. He’s totally playing with me.
Like our lives can be, He’s showing me that can all seem elusive,
but that He will be back.
Like the salt in a sea breeze that I imagine has been around the world
and come back to touch my face again,
as a brand new breeze.

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