My Mom often tells me of times when she was a small girl and she walked the land in the evenings with her grandfather. He taught her how to read the sky and foretell the weather. As I have grown up, Mom has shown me various clouds, the way the sun is setting, the direction the wind is blowing and of course, the different phases of the moon…but I cannot forecast the weather like Mom can! Most nights if we have a clear sky, we look up in the sky for the moon. Since childhood I have watched the moon, a comforting moon, a scary moon, a warm moon a Winter moon shining brightly at Christmas. Recently I read a book which included the following poem by Max Ehrmann which really resonated with Mom and I, because we love the moon…
I would, if I could, bring back into fashion the moon and the stars, the dawn and the sunset.
I rarely hear anyone speak of them. One would think these perpetual wonders had passed from sight.
There is peace and rest in the contemplation of these miracles that nature paints on the canvas of the sky.
Tonight I looked at the moon for a while. There was a faint circle around it.
A friend came by and asked what I was looking at. I pointed to the moon. ‘I don’t see anything.’ ‘The moon,’ I said.
He chuckled and went on, he will report me from growing queer.
The mystery of the night! And our own mystery!
Who knows what we are? No science has yet grapsed us. The moon – the beautiful, mystical moon, playing nightly to empty seats!
I wonder how many people never look at the moon and I wonder how many look at the moon but never really see it.