Under a Fledging Moon


The darkness twitched like a startled rabbit, a sudden and brief event. Almost as though a portrait had shifted in a breeze only for the gallery’s curator to quickly straighten it before anyone noticed, the world realigned.
I stopped walking and scratched my head. There didn’t appear any change although a copious covering of cloud precluded confirmation. I rubbed my eyes just to be sure. No, still the same. Or was it?
As the clouds parted like a drawn back duvet, heaven changed. What was at best a glittering sky, as seen on a clear, winter’s night, instead gleamed silver. The whole universe had taken on a burnished sheen. The last of the cloud fizzled away to reveal the cause. The Moon had changed.
No longer an aerial afterthought, the Moon was reborn. A glowing, pulsing pool of pure white, the Moon grew, expanded, and retook the sky for its own. Speechless, I marvelled as like a fledging swan the moon shook off its downy coat to take on the form it would for the rest of its days. In the night, it shone. In awe, I bowed.
Under that fledgling moon, I at last knew peace. It was time to go home.

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