Tundra Moon

Flying home, the sky holds endless wonders. A pale blue tundra deepens to a fuller rich blue, blending sky and snow so where they meet is indistinguishable. Making the pink shrinking moon look flat and pixelated, pasted on the blue tundra, a stretched penny, her features grotesque but stunning, grinning up from the endless tundra, slowly sinking into the ice.  Far above her, blue-gray pales to pink-gray, yellow-gray, then beyond the glory of the eternal sky, growing more piercingly rich with the dawn.  Now the moon turns to gray, buried in snow, the tundra swallowing her whole.

To fly above the moon. To live in the eternal glory of the sapphire sky, its world of wonders, its eternal space.  The heavens. All is swallowed in light as the sun vanquishes the night for the second time this morning, leaving me breathless.

Walking

For several hours I poke at myself. "You really ought to go walk..." Until finally between that and some reminders from the husband, I stumble out the door in a haze.  Then blue-gray mountains and white distant peaks rise up around me, and as I turn onto I-84, the Columbia spreads out below.  My spirit soars and I forget why I ever wanted to be indoors in the first place.