The moon. It’s up there. Keeping an eye on everything, most of the time. Sometimes during the day. Sometimes during the night. Sometimes the eye is wide open, and sometimes it is nearly closed.
And sometimes it is totally closed, and yet it is when the eye is fully open when we act like lunatics. As if we are proud to be under the watchful gaze of celestial silence.
My daughter calls the moon her sister. Our youngest calls tells her when “your sister” is in the sky.
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