The full moon rose up through a feathery purple cloud at the same moment we lifted off the runway. You'd think the night sky a silent place and perhaps it is but the steady whonk whonk of the small engine filled the little cockpit, making talk nearly impossible. We resorted to a touch on the arm and a pointing finger. Look, look, there where the moon path is dancing on the water, or there where the lights of a town look like Christmas lights scattered by the hand of a giant. See where the road winds with its tiny cargo of cars, their headlights shining in the dark like radiating lines drawn in a cartoon. And there where beacon lights are flashing their warnings from steep mountain ridges.
Back on land, close to midnight, the moon rode high and distant, it's rising gold muted to silver. But oh, I rode the night sky with that moon. I spent time in its great, wide space, kin with the cold light that looked warm close up.