There have been twelve full moons, this year.

And each has had its expression, for us all.

Each has meant something, shining to each of us, for a moment.

From the brilliant clarity of the winternight orb

–all is quietude over snowfield;

to the mystic revealings of the springeve

— there are lunar turnings in the soil;

to the dusted orange globe of the indian summer’s night

— leaves leave, in the fall.

We look skyward.

We reflect: these moments — momentum.

In September, the moon shone; one latenight in Rome,

in the spinning from summertime to the autumnal,

hovering above the Arch of Emperor Constantine,

who — so the inscription says —

overcame his enemies by divine inspiration.

After midnight, the moon cast her softened light, dusted in mist as I stood,

near the Colosseo. I pondered — momentum: 1600 years

of full moons, month by month, year by year.

And before.

And after.

And now, twelve moons have passed, all in fullness,

cycles past, to the close of this year —

For what has been, I’m thankful.

Best wishes for more 12 more moons, each — a discovering.

Each — an inspiration.

Happy new year.