When I pulled into the parking lot at school early last Wednesday, I looked up to see the slimmest crescent of moon in the midst of corrugated clouds. It’s easy to forget that these moon phases are an illusion of sorts–that we only see a fraction of the moon, but the entirety is there, out of sight. On that morning, something about that slim curve of visible light struck me as so tender…so vulnerable. Something about it grabbed my attention and still teases me.
Since that morning, I’ve looked at the picture over and over again. I find myself remembering the scene at odd moments. Wondering about its persistence. What was it that intrigued me so? The contrast of shapes between linear clouds and crescent moon? The contrast of color–charcoal grey and glowing white? The impossibly thin fragility of that sliver? I’ve been tinkering around with a poem, trying to find my way into it, but the words haven’t come together yet despite my best efforts.
When something is this “itchy” though, I know it will happen. Someday.
Such a great picture – I bet that it will make a great poem! I love when we can witness something like this in real life… If you drew a picture of a moon like this, people might say, “That isn’t a real moon! Make it more realistic!” But this is real… which makes it all the better!
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I think you have already begun with writing this poem. Your descriptive words don’t require the excellent picture, I can vizualize it. But I love the picture too.
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Love your photo and how it has lingered with you throughout the week. When you finish tinkering, we’ll be here ready to savor your poem.
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I wonder if your poem will have this image in it–“that we only see a fraction of the moon, but the entirety is there, out of sight.” I look forward to reading what comes, but know all too well that you can’t force the muse. It works on its own time.
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What a great photo and the itch will be scratched, I bet. I understand the challenge of not having the words come together.
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You are thinking like a wonderer, Molly, so your photo will inspire that poem that is hidden. It will sneak up at you and become a visible entity like the moon.
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