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 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.