Monday, April 11, 2005
The lady in the moon lazily lifted her eyes. Her alarm clock screeched like a meteor skating on atmosphere. There was to be a full moon that night, meaning she would have to shine her very best. But she did not feel like showing herself at all. Her makeup had run out, and the solar tides had put her in such a state of exhaustion she couldn't even orbit her eyes, let alone her whole body. She sent out lunar waves of mayday to the clouds. "Cover me up," she begged them, "for I am too tired to glow."
"No," the clouds told her, "it has been an entire month since we've seen you in all your splendor, and we will not be denied this feast of light."
"If only someone would eclipse me," she cried, tears beginning to stream down the dark side of her face.
But none of the heavenly hosts volunteered to eclipse her. They were waiting, all of them, to see her this one special hour when no one of her curves was veiled. The lady of nighttime rolled over and went back to sleep. Once in a blue moon she shone only for the lovers in her own dreams.