Harvest

This morning the moon hung low and bright over my lake, casting a long silver-yellow stripe across the calm waters. I thought about running down the hill and scooping up a pail full of water and then dousing my plants with lunar essence. By the time I’d changed out of my PJs, unhooked the cat from my leg, and answered a phone call the morning had broken. But that’s OK. Just having the idea was enough, and inspired a scene in the book I’m working on.

I think most writers have a child like streak. Not to be confused with childish, although we all have those moments. For me, child like means recognizing, preserving, and encouraging that sense of wonder about the world. Kids know that magic can be just around the corner…if you are willing to look for it. :-)

Here’s another favorite poem …especially nice after that raven post.

The Moon's the North Wind's Cookie(What the Little Girl Said)
by Vachel Lindsay

The Moon's the North Wind's cookie
He bites it, day by day
Until there's but a rim of scraps
That crumble all away.

The South Wind is the baker
He kneads clouds in his den,
And bakes a crisp new moon that ...
greedy.... North.... Wind ....eats....again!