One
night last December I’m out alone on Caldwell Avenue for the largest full moon
of the year, and I’m giving it what it deserves- a long gaze.
I
was welcomed to the neighborhood a number of years ago by an August full
moon. I’ve paid particular
attention to the Highland Park moon ever since.
Something
about the southern sun and its intensity makes you want to shield yourself,
hide your face. Something about
the moon draws you out. It’s as
if, like the song says, “the moon sees me.”
I’ve
never been good with constellations, but I can always find Orion. And tonight
he is laying prostrate in the icy sky.
And it’s as if his arms are reaching out, trying to grasp the moon. That’s how I feel.