Through the haze this morning, the moon was shining. Lower on the horizon than even yesterday. Outlined by the jagged bare branches outside of our curtained bedroom window and the soffits of our roof, it was amazing to see how very far it moved, in motion, in mere moments. About 7, to be exact. As Sol began to rise, chasing Luna away, starting the day, bullying her gentleness with his relentless light, she even appeared to wither.
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