The Full Cold Moon chaperoned the winter solstice, rare but unseen, veiled by clouds. Three nights later, waning and shy, it donned a lacy veil to peek through branches in the Christmas Eve sky. Tonight, for Christmas, it presents itself proudly on a clear black backdrop, a glowing prophet in the night.

I don’t know if this moon has a secret to tell, a lesson to teach. Maybe it’s enough that I see it, drink in its quiet light, breathe in its presence. I notice it; it centers me.

This week has been both long and excruciatingly short; this day has been slow and mostly easy; I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. For now, I will read, then sleep, and hope to wake gently and greet Boxing Day with no gloves nor other protection, just a healthy spirit.