… rose over the hillside. Like a surprise, the moon simply appeared.
All day long it often seems, I go about moving things — words, dishes, weeds. Laundry from the line to the basket. My own sometimes tired bones. Then the moon, rising infinitely serene and wise.
After a late soccer game, the girls sat at table outside, the air abruptly cooling as the sun began to sink. The girls kept eating strawberries, shortcake, whipped cream. A forkful dropped on the table.
There you are, my daughter said to the moon, laughing. A hello from her to this heavenly sphere. July.