Last night, the moon told me a story.
It beckoned to me as it began to rise over the mountains near our house, bright as the sun in the sky.
And though dinner was almost ready, I flew out the door, ran across a few neighbors’ yards, down the street and to the park. The trees had already gathered around to listen, but they welcomed me into their space.
Together, we sat, in the stillness of the night. And we listened.
Someday, I hope to write down the words the moon spoke. But for now, holding them in my heart is enough.