On My Walks

On My Walks

Sometimes those around us are difficult to understand.  Today on my walk, I looked up and saw the moon hanging over the Flatirons.  It was wispy and translucent, like the clouds around it.  Nothing about it looked solid or enduring, appearing more like a pile of soap bubbles that could easily be dispersed by a puff of wind than like a ball of rocks and dirt.

Surprised to see it there at 8:30 a.m., I thought of how often I admire the moon but rarely know where to expect to find it in the sky.  Its movements are foreign to me despite many years observing it.  Even from night to morning, it traverses a path that I cannot predict.

Is it a problem of attention?  In part.  Could I learn the trajectory of the moon throughout the year?  Of course, as its path is well know.  Why don’t I take the time to then?  Ah, therein lies an interesting question that I cannot answer; there are a myriad of reasons.  For now, let’s just say that I like surprises.


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