The almost-full Snow Moon cast its lovely light over an aptly-snow-covered earth, calling to me to step out into the cold air and brave the discomfort for this brilliance. In only a few minutes, I was chilled and shuddering, but the moon often does that, forcing us into situations and circumstances and bad ideas we never would have entertained at any other time. Its seduction is dangerous, and one follows its madness with an acknowledged risk of ruin. On this night, it was nothing nearly as dramatic as all that, merely the pesky trials of a brisk chill to capture a few peeks of the moon shyly drifting among the winter clouds and trees.
Winter moons hold their own magic, and though their light is merely a reflection, it feels no less illuminating for that. There’s something more poignant about it – as though it’s giving up everything for the rest of us, even the stuff it doesn’t even have to give. Of course there’s another way of looking at it: who gives away something they have only borrowed?
