This night there is a soft breeze lifting the pine needles giving the sifting sound that only breeze through needles can give. Popcorn-like altocumulus clouds separate the moon and me and as they pass I see the stars. Night sounds of crickets, loons, owls, and coyotes have a different resonance under a full moon. Last night, when there was but an edge to its complete its fullness I wrote:
I could not sleep tonight so rose to look at the nearly full moon that made the fainter stars disappear and long shadows cross the lawn. As I stood there on my veranda I first heard one great horned owl calling out from in the woods across the lock. The moon and the owl were enchanting. Then, in the beauty of the moment, and in the stillness of the night, another owl responded, its voice carrying across the lake's waveless water. There we were— the four of us. Two owls, the moon and me. Sometimes sleepless nights have golden linings.
