My thoughts . . . caught by the moon as I sit by the window. The color like a pale vanilla wafer, it rises slowly, inch by inch above the prairie horizon, turning pasta white above the hills. Higher and higher – lighter and lighter - it goes and glows. The moon shadows were once a surprise. I did not know of them. Now, I anxiously await the austere, black tree forms stretching out from the base of ancient oaks. Ethereal moon beams, traversing the yard, create a mystical passageway from the house to the road. Moving into the midst of the moonlight – a contemplative, enchanted moon-walk.
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