Whilst I feel a connection to the
full moon, it is what I call the
Winter Moon which really gives a sense of awe.
The Winter Moon is when the full (or nearly full moon) is visible in the sky in the morning, hanging white and pale above the farm I live next to, against the crisp blue sky that a cold winter's day brings. I feel a need to be near to that airless rock, a feeling that twenty years is far too long, that that white circle has not been touched by man during my lifetime.
The full moon at night gives me a different feeling: I want to run barefoot through the grass, to stare at her, blissfully unaware of the time slipping away, of the cold nipping at my body. I want to strip naked and hug the trees. But mostly I sit inside the kitchen, nose pressed against the cold window, staring for minutes on end, wanting to be out there but wondering how to explain to my parents why their son is gallavanting around outside naked. I'm such a coward sometimes.