I saw the moon tonight, while driving back from picking up some dinner. I knew it was supposed to rise at about 6 tonight, but when I came over the hill to come face to face with her, I practically cried at her brushed golden radiance. Even now I see her as she watches me write; she creeps through a thin gauze of clouds, spreading her refections into spectacular displays deep azure and golden metals, a blue tiger's eye. I never know what to make of these moments emotionally. It always seems surreal, and I'm never sure if something is trying to reach me, or if I am reaching for it. Happy moongazing.

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