The moon creeps high, high above amidst the sparkling stars, stars that blanket the sky. I have never seen so many stars. Not altogether in one sky. And the moon, what a gorgeous moon! Not nearly full, it beams as the sun, a cold, brilliant white sun, casting shadows and illuminating darkness in a way I did not think possible. My path is lit by the moon, except where the tree shadows shield its weak, glaring beams. I can see thousands & thousands of stars and I understand mankind's forever fascination with the heavens. These dots of light filling up that great blue blanket, this web that is the same in Wisconsin and New Jersey. How far it extends & can I almost sense it is round? That one that burns so bright - it rivals the moon, nay, the sun in intensity. If it were the size of the moon how it should hurt my eyes! Why are some so much dimmer? I know it is distance and each star has its place. Are they all content, I wonder. Content with the place God has put them in, content to be less known and seen by humans on earth. They do not care, of course.
I see the black, spindly silhouette of the bare trees extending into my field of vision, highlighting the intense midnight blue of the sky. The bare, spidery limbs that I had not expected - red orange purple leaves belong on their branches so I may admire & photograph them, not in soggy, ugly, sticky piles of horrid brown. The trees, too, shadow & melt. I shiver as I lie there. The wind whistles, hums through the leafless trees. I listen for the sounds, the noise of Wisconsin I can bottle up & open in New Jersey to smell. Nothing. Then, the wind. After, the water. Lapping ever so gently the shore, sparkling and dancing in the moonlight as it did in the sun seven hours ago. Regular & light, it fills me. I try to push out the sounds of laughter & banter that travels from the bonfire 500 yds away. College kids. Be quiet, will you. They shout at the canoe that splashes past - who are you? Their voices fade back as I filter them. Then, faintly - can it be? - a howl. At first I do not believe my ears. Perhaps a siren? Then, again. Do wolves howl at a moon but three quarters pregnant? Wolves, or coyotes? Coyotes? No, wolves. A long wolf, far, far away. At least I hope. I thrill at the sound - me hearing wolves howl at the moon as I lie alone in the still of night.
I walk the path. Can I see without my flashlight? Oh moon, were that thy beams were stronger. I can see, but fear overtakes me & I turn it on, balancing my Styrofoam cup of water. The weak pool of light shows me the shadow that does not exist. What a different light this gives off out here than in a warm room! I stomp back, then tiptoe when I see my roommates asleep. I hunger for more insight & nature & mourn for a hunger for God that did not come. Yet I am in awe.
