Monday, November 14, 2016

240: Moon, moon, moon

Today was a really busy day. Worked a lot and was really tired.

Slept off. Panicked over a pushed deadline. Felt overwhelmed.

Got an email reminding me about the deadline yet again.

Started working on the assignment again.

Got fed up and went for a run.

The moon was out and large. It shone strong and shyly. It reflected on the lake and the protruding rocks looked like handcrafted, clumpy jewelry made of decaying archipelagos. The world was still crude but so beautiful.

I came to my favorite part of the road where I love jogging. It's usually dark, blue tinted, and empty of people. It's also usually cooler than the other spots. I run past a guy who's humming. I recognize the song.

I look up at the moon now. Somewhere they are bursting crackers. For a few seconds, a flurry of emerald green sparklers burst in the air against the moon. You see this cloud of green, fiery glitter against the backdrop of the moon and on the varnish of the still lake. I'm besotted. I keep jogging.

In another bend of the track, I see a plane fly, almost scraping the end of the moon. I imagine that a bit of the moon would have crumbled and a few flecks would fall on earth.

And then I finish my rounds and head back home. There will be dinner and there will be work. I remember a phrase by Catherine Collautt: A dream is half a prophecy.

Good night, my beautiful moon. You were closest today but you'll be favorite familiar tomorrow.

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