December Moon

Tonight, at twilight, I looked up to see if any stars were out.

I live in a city, so all the ambient light tends to wipe out the night sky. Usually all I get is a vague haze. often lit by some of the remaining amber low-energy street lights. A friend called the effect "a piss-yellow fog."

But tonight the sky was a lovely pale grey with a bluish tinge to it.

As it deepened to an almost Maxfield Parrish blue, I saw the moon in her first quarter. She was like a pale fingernail paring, floating in the sky.

For me, the Moon is the Triple Goddess: Maiden, Mother, and Crone all in one.

If you ever wonder whether the moon is waxing or waning, remember the word DOC. As the Moon is born, the curve is like that of a capital D. When full, an O. And as she wanes, the letter C.

Simple.

And tonight, that faint slice of light in the early night sky looked not so much like a fingernail clipping as it did like a smile.

Fitting: The Goddess, at her birth and re-birth, smiles.

There's a poem in there somewhere.