For few days now I've observed the ascension of the moon - gliding its way through the clouds in silk motion that easily sleeps (sic) past the eyes.
It starts as a giant orange hanging from invisible ropes over the landscape, just peeping from beyond the horizon; perhaps shy of its dirty orange color, wanting to be sure it's alright to take over the watch of the night, too dirty to release the fullness of its brilliance in the dark skies.
It stealthily slides, layers of dust and debris, witnesses to another day of toil, sweat, consumption of bitter bread as reward blur vision of it. I wonder if it sees me that way- blurred out, indistinguishable from everyone else.
Maybe she's been working all day in places we know not...