to the Lord and the Lord answered me and set me free. Ps. 118:5 NLT
Around midnight on a recent road trip I became fixated on the enigmatic face observed by ancients down through the ages. While the mythology of the man in the moon persists, it struck me on this evening that the image seemed more feminine. Her expression, the terrain of her countenance, was more exquisite than a piece chisled by Auguste Rodin.
Preoccupied she did not seem to notice me–watching her. I imagined a recent childbirth and wanted to ask her, “Are you smiling with contentment or grimacing with a tear on your translucent face?”
Excerpt from Whippoorwill Calls Prose & Poetry Edition