Last night the moon made a nest and peeked down through the bottom of it at me. I’m going to write a poem of thanks to the moon. You may want to too.
I wonder, when the moon makes a nest, what it hopes to hatch. Do geese below gaze up in the night at that big old moon and wonder the same thing? Do they notice her full belly and figure it’s time for her to get busy laying?
Or do they note, as I did, that there is a hole in the bottom of her nest. Maybe it is the sort of nest you make when you mean to shine your light on birds sitting patiently on lumpy eggs, or to comfort lonely souls by bringing back gentle memories of other full moons, or to encourage lovers to hold hands and never let go, or to give children a moon to help them dream their dreams.
When I decide a proper way to thank my moon for gazing down at me through the hole in the bottom of her nest, I’ll let you know.