She called from Missouri because she knew the moon is precious to me. The moon there, an hour ahead of mountain time, was full and red and almost caused her to drive off the road so amazing was the sight. I stood at the picture window, watching my moon tree. The tree that always gently holds the moon as she rises and lifts her into the night sky. The clouds were too many. Her face I would not see.
And as I pondered how the same moon has one face elsewhere and another here, my eye caught the reflection of the prism in the window touched by the street light. The prism that in the morning dances with the sun creating rainbows on my walls. Tonight, I could not see the moon but the Light, timeless, never hidden, shown through to gift the gift of light and sight. The sweet sweet Hands of Life.... Love and Light.