Coppered moon, bulging over horizon – hoisting itself into sky, beginning its glow.

    My mouth awed at the sight of it tonight.               I am thankful for moments such as that.    
                         When I’m taken off guard by beauty unexpected.

More moments exist where I’m kiltered and swayed and arms can’t enclose spaces so cavernously mesmerizing.
      When a question is asked and windows are opened to allow light into hidden spaces.
           When friend becomes healer and speaks and inquests and loves too much to stay silent.

When newness breaks shelled boundaries and leaves dance again.
And I could count them in thousands.          Freedom is in the naming.         The seeing.
We need people to be eyes to our blindness. To breathe into the staleness. To lure us back to thriving.
   We need to be that to another. We all have our time, our position in the process. 
All I know, on this night – one not so different save I came here, back to keys pressed and thoughts recorded and shushing the doubt-weights dripping heavy – is that I am smiling from more than just lips. In wholeness. In core. In gratitude. 
    And I know that has nothing to do with me.                          
                                                                               So I see lunar poetry. I grasp its effect.
Acknowledge I am the audience of so much lovely – dare I miss it no longer.
I am accompanying my mom on her mini-vacation tomorrow. 
I suppose that makes it my vacation too.
Her generosity in inviting me along is giant. 
Neither of us have ever voyaged to Chicago. A first for us both.
I am eagerly awaiting the exploration, the shared interests, the stories.
So until we return – I miss you, my writing family. Thank you that I am always safe in your understanding embrace.

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