Watching a harvest moon rise in the east, with all the fanfare and glory of the morning sun, gives one a sense of anticipation for the grandeur to be found in the coming 4 AM sky. Like a flashlight behind a shadow box, it illuminates the silhouettes of the, still behind a still, naked skeletons, waiting for their springtime foliage. Rising above the rooftop Tracey’s house, the stars are swept-away before it, as security would clear a path for the queen. Orion, standing strong directly overhead, knows that, even he, must bow to royalty, and begins his exit to the west. At 3:25 AM, Girl Scout is dancing by my bed. Toenails click on the floor in anxious desperation, wanting not to miss, what is sure to be, the spectacular continuation of the full moon’s dance across our 4 AM sky. Obediently, I stumble down the stairs and out the door, where Scout waits in the clear night’s glow. Girl Scout runs ahead, like an usher, guiding me to my reserved seat in the white wicker rocker. Kit maintains his professionalism, instilling confidence in our head of security, as he slips in and out of shadows. As we suspected, the moon’s pro-cession had not waited, and now was dropping to the west. The eastern sky behind her was filling back with starlets, previously, brushed back by brilliance. And, here on earth, Girl Scout sits beside me as we pay homage to the Scout dog that brings God’s love to bear on all that is, or ever was. We are as much a part of the ceremonies as the moon and stars and our souls unite, in such a way, that we cannot determine where one ends, and the other begins. Love you, Scout.
