The Moon

The Moon
By Sean Bordenkircher

The cold bites at the nerves of fingertips, from crossing the threshold into the still, December night. Snow,

crisped by hours of cold wind crunches underfoot, compacting into a slick, smooth ice sheet on the

concrete.

Steaming breaths billow out, revealed by the floodlamps on the sides of the building, caused to amplify by

the increased weight of a heavy refuse bag, and a weary body.

Mechanically, the trashbag is thrown into the dumpster, on the North wall of the building. Quick enough to

be noticed, but slow enough to enjoy, the environment changes, being suddenly lit by a colourless glow.

The glory of El Luna escapes her sister's shadow; shining, gorgeous, prismatic, but at the same time, dark

and theiving of color, reducing all faces to a greyish-blue.

Pupils continue to focus and change; the invisible reticule in the center of sight fixed on the curves, craters

and colours painted on it's slowly waning face.

Seconds, minutes, hours even may pass, staring at the captivating space body, as it's size multiplies with

time, finally escaping into her full exhibition. The glory of the moon, prevails