The fish were biting like crazy yesterday. My husband juggled three rods; his own, and each of my daughters; loading bait, mending bobbers, pulling in occasional tufts of seaweed, and then, unhooking and releasing fish. I commented on the full moon last night – its stunning luminescence; its humble yet grand presence against the graying sky. Bud added, “The fish always bite on a full moon. And tomorrow , the deer will be out; active, moving”.
It’s the spring tide. Gravity is pulling the sun and the moon toward one another with great force, and the water swells.
I am the moon; I have no light of my own and merely reflect the true Light of the Sun. The Sun pulls the moon; the sea billows - the mysterious sea holding hidden thoughts, hidden pain, hidden loneliness. The tide bulges the water and brings forth unknown creatures from the depths to sandy beaches for examination. The Light shines and exposes that which was once obfuscated.
Together we view their shapes, their hues, the lines that give them definition. We stare at them, and then, our view of them again becomes blurred, but now, blurred by The Light. The Light spills over our eyes, and we become riveted by the Sun. It warms us with its premeditating love.
Together we view their shapes, their hues, the lines that give them definition. We stare at them, and then, our view of them again becomes blurred, but now, blurred by The Light. The Light spills over our eyes, and we become riveted by the Sun. It warms us with its premeditating love.
The moon will wane to gibbous; then crescent, and then, to new moon. The neap tides will come with their dull monotony, and at times the new moon will feel as dark and empty as it looks. But, as the tides rise and fall, and the moon waxes and wanes, the Sun will shine and warm.
And when the next spring tide bursts forth, we’ll take the boat and our girls, and go fish.
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