February Moon ~ a haiku to share

on waking from moonlight

My phone camera never quite gets it. I keep trying anyway.

The moon woke me three times last night. We sleep with a slightly opened window, an uncurtained view open to the woods and sky. In the wintry, bare-tree months of the year, when the moon is waxing and near full, her light illuminates a window-shaped patch of brightness that falls over our bed. It is strangely comforting and always holds me in wonder.

I lay there, dreaming out the window, watching the branches shimmer back and forth in front of the bright moon, remembering something Georgia O’Keeffe once wrote that expressed her desire to always have an open window in her bedroom so she could lie awake in wonder at the view. I spent a long time trying to find that quote today, but no success. If you know of it, I would be most grateful if you shared it with me here. I only remember how it made me feel: why sleep when there is such a view?

The last time I woke with the moon’s reflected light on my face it was nearing dawn. I thought I saw a dark bird land on one of the bare branches and just as quickly, leave. Shadow on shadow within shadow. This haiku formed in my mind:

February moon

from snow-brittle branch he lights

grackle, black grackle

The moon is waxing gibbous and in Cancer, a watery moon. I’m never quite sure what that means in the grand scheme of things, but I follow her cycles anyway. If nothing else, it’s romantic and soothing and so very dependable and real.

Enjoy this day, dear reader. May we all find opportunities to reflect the light.

I find myself drawing the moon often.