It is glorious, and I got to stand for a while tonight and see its light splayed upon the spated river: shining, sparkling, shaking, shivering, shattering. Huge. So huge. It's so much warmer tonight than last ... surely it shall rain tomorrow and thus no more of this moon.
And I hope you will pardon me for saying I've had just the most wonderful day. Doing nothing but blither with V about capitalism, money, land, slavery, CA Gold Rush, Civil War, put two days' of dishes in dishwasher (I am being seduced!), scrubbed the master bathroom that turned into a pigpen immediately with V here, gave script of Free Man of Color to the provost's wife who, with provost, will see it over Thanksgiving weekend, walked to the WC library where the books I looked for seem to be lost, so got other books, picked up by V, and then wrote all afternoon.
Now, we're going out to dinner for the Monday night special at the Fish Whistle.
And the moon ....
That there are horrors under this moon everywhere, I surely know, and that I have horrors and terrors of our own, this is so, but I try to hide them from myself most of all, while attempting still to deal. But for some moments I have the privilege of being perfectly my most perfect self and filled with the joy of it -- and be aware of the perfection of self, time, place, action. This happens so seldom in all our lives that the moments must be noticed and treasured.
The moon, o the moon.