A
gibbous moon hung near the meridian late last evening in the calm and cold
night that awaits the coming of the storm.
The
thin covering of snow on the back porch crunched and even squeaked a little as
I made my way across to a spot where the moon was visible up high between the
boughs of two tall spruces that sit beside the access road.
There
wasn’t the slightest noise about, apart from my own breathing, which created
small clouds of steam when backlit in the moonlight.
Off to
the west, the starlight was blotted out by the approach of frontal clouds – the
coming of the fury that is to blanket us with drifting snow.
A few
wispy clouds passed just in front of the moon, moving quickly and very high
above. For a brief moment, as the moon emerged in full from their veil, the
clouds resembled trailing vapor against its disk like the tail of a comet which
glows in the light.
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