Moon Shadows

Under a Blood Red Moon
Image by onkel_wart (off duty) via Flickr


Even as daylight's battle ebbs under smoldering horizon, leaving embers flickering brilliantly in the night sky.  Blazing colors fade…  Darker shades, purple, obsidian, and onyx, wink timidly under the ascending crimson glow of a vernal season’s full moon.  The sultry heat of solar crescendo; appeased, tempered, and humbled by a comfortable welcome coolness of nightfall's mercy.  A stunning stillness swaddles and sooths all creatures with silence… Ephemeral yet indomitable and gallant in it’s darkness.  

The changing of guard by celestial sentinels, a sincere, sublime, and stirringly emotional ceremony.  If ever there was an abeyance in time, it is this moment, a brief juncture when seconds swell.  An epoch when eternity seems possible, infinity has relevance, destiny tickles inevitability.  The triviality of life dwindles, leaving an ambiance of unclouded invigoration and gratitude.  That brief occasion when existence has consequence, significance, and prospect.

As a gentle breeze stirs virgin leaves of stalwart Oaks and skeletal mesquite.  Bullfrogs cavort and frolic noisily along rippling waters edge.  Crickets begin their evening telegraph, sounding messages musically alluring.  An owl plaintively questions darkened shadows, challenging that which we cannot see.  The defiant instance of silence, pure solitude, is violated to disclose an episodic twilight of sentience.

Moon shadows cast against the landscape, toys, tempts, and deceives perception.  Tree limbs, bent and misshapen by the crimson glow of a manipulating moon.  A chicanery perpetrated by a mischievous  sentinel for it’s own perverse amusement.  Unnerving imaginings of dilettantish thoughts distort judgment, confuse senses.  A spirited night livens the ambiance, forces concentration.  Inspiration flourishes, investing concept, reflection, intimation.  A prosperous environment for the creatively inclined.

“The moon is a white strange world, great, white, soft-seeming globe in the night sky, and what she actually communicates to me across space I shall never fully know. But the moon that pulls the tides, and the moon that controls the menstrual periods of women, and the moon that touches the lunatics, she is not the mere dead lump of the astronomist. When we describe the moon as dead, we are describing the deadness in ourselves. When we find space so hideously void, we are describing our own unbearable emptiness.”

D.H. Lawrence

11 comments:

Sandee said...

Seems to me the moon works very hard every single day of every single year.

Have a terrific day and a happy Easter. :)

Poetic Shutterbug said...

Gorgeous, the moon - protector of the night.

Eric S. said...

@ Sandee, It sure does girl, I hope you had a great Easter also.

@ Poetic Shutterbug, Thank you, the moon has a special power over me, I can't always explain it, but it's there.

tashabud said...

The moon has a sublime power over me too. I could watch the moon and the stars against a clear midnight-blue sky all night, stretched out on a lounge chair on the patio anytime on a nice, warm night.

You've described the transition of the day into night and everything that comes and goes at night so beautifully in a romantic, poetic way. Great job.


Tasha

tashabud said...

Forgot to tell you. I like your new decor.

Tasha

cheryl said...

"The changing of guard by celestial sentinels", I love this Eric! I'm a mooner from way back and search for it appearing over my river. When found there's a sigh of relief and I feel all is well. Even now I smile when I find the "ole man" winking back at me ;) Beautiful ode Eric.

Eric S. said...

@ Tasha, Thank you dear girl, it's that time of the transition I feel most at ease. There seems to be a magical variable in the mix somewhere.

The new background is actually one of the streets in my home town. It was taken some time ago, because the street remains unpaved in the photo. I can remember when they paved the streets in town, I was in grade school at the time.

@ Cheryl, It is a magical time isn't it. I so love a full moon on a clear night, but especially, that time right in the middle. To the west you can still see the remnants of daylight, and to the east, the beginnings of moonlight. Time seems to stand still.

kkipp said...

Interesting post, and apt clip from Lawrence. I've always planned to visit his ranch, just down the road from Mother's place.

Eric S. said...

@ Kel, "interesting", is that the kiss of death or what, LOL.

I didn't know his ranch was that close to mothers.

kkipp said...

LOL -- no, I really did mean that I was interested, caught up intellectually, in the post.

Yup, the Lawrence ranch is between mother's and Taos, on the left hand side if your heading into Taos. One of these days I'll schedule a visit when in the are to visit mother.

I have 'Lady Chatterly's Lover' in my "banned books" collection.

Kel

kkipp said...

" . . . when in the AREA . . . "

Grrrrrrr

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