The dog nudged my feet, waking me up.
“There’s a big light in the sky!” he said.
“That’s the moon,” I said.
“But part of it is gone!”
“That happens.”
“Let’s go outside to see it better!”
So we did.
(The dog didn’t exactly say that, verbatim. I’m doing some interpretation.)
Self-portrait under waxing crescent moon
One source of rain
Waning crescent moon
Horns’ tips upraised
Goring water from
The clouds they pass through
Should’ve worn goggles, I guess
When the moon hits MY eye like a big pizza pie, for an instant I realize the whole ‘moon is made of cheese’ thing was true.
When the moon hits my eye like a big pizza pie, I say “OW OW HOT MOLTEN CHEESE OW.”
Relativity
My black dog’s shadow
Cast by waxing gibbous moon
Gray against the snow.
The plot may diverge thereafter
I am waiting for the version of The Sound of Music where Maria holds a moonbeam in her hand and the Captain turns into a werewolf.
It’s like a stroll on the beach
Going outside right now is like a sunlit stroll on a warm, sandy beach.
Except it’s dark, and cloudy enough to obscure the waxing gibbous moon, and it’s 31 degrees out, and that’s granular snow, not sand, under my feet, which are wearing boots, not sandals or barefoot.
Other than that, exactly the same.