Lucy Giardino Cortese

La Bella Luna

Insistent luminescence creeping through my window lures me from my favorite reading nook into the starry night. The iridescent opal lights the nocturnal sky in competition with her diurnal twin. This great orb brags that she is larger, closer, brighter than her multitude of sparkling neighbors.

My admiration for the showy gal spans a lifetime. I am a 7-year old squeezed into the back window perch of my Daddy’s Ford. No seat belt laws back then. “Look, the moon is following us all the way home!” The entire family belts out an off-key rendition, “…moon hits your eye, like a bigga pizza pie, that’s amore!”

Tonight I meditate on the mystery this celestial body has fashioned throughout recorded and unrecorded time. Certainly not a man in the moon. She is a glimmering goddess, casting her magical spell upon tides and tsunamis, werewolves and witches, lunatics and lovers. Mesmerized by her timeless beauty, omnipotence and wonder, I am eternally moonstruck.

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