Moonlight woke me this morning. It poured through our back windows at 4 a.m. A pool of white light, a bright beacon.
I had no intention of walking in it, but still, it posed an invitation, perhaps even a summons. Get up, savor the moment, look at the faraway, inscrutable, silent, brilliant moon.
And so I did. The orb bathed our backyard in a strange glow, neither night nor day. It made me think of places where moonlight lights the way for travelers and smugglers and lost souls. It was like a dream, except it wasn't.
When I drove to work this morning, the moon was still up, a tamer version of its earlier wild self. I could almost pretend it wasn't there.