The Magical Moon

This is in response to Esther’s Weekly Word Prompt.

This week’s prompt is : Magic.

The Magical Moon

Fascination with the moon is endemic with all poets and word weavers, me included. The magic of the moon irresistibly casts its spell  as the night takes over the firmament. In spite of being 384,400 kilometers (238,855 miles) away from the Earth, the moon’s bewitching magic remains constant, if not ever increasing. It is said that the moon is inching away from the earth by 4 cm a year. Yet the poets gravitate towards it like bees to blossoms.

When we were kids, grandmother used to tell us the story of that old lady who has been sitting on the moon for epochs and sewing endlessly on her rickety spinning wheel. You see that faint black smear on its gleaming face. Scientists say it’s the shadow of the craters but the story tellers say that it’s a blot on her beatific countenance. It’s an old saying “even the moon has a blemish on its face”. 

I guess it’s her blemished beauty that beguiles more. The imperfection makes her the perfect muse for romantic imagination. She is the confidante of broken hearts. She listens intently to the rants of unrequited love. She has tears but she hides them behind a glowing visage. And for the deprived it’s the symbol of that piece of round bread or roti that an empty stomach salivates for.

In celebration of this fatal attraction here’s a bunch of moon haiku highlighting how the ubiquitous moon is ever present in thoughts and cadence, rhymes and rhythms, verses and musings :

weekend

I carry the moon

back home

***

moon-less night

did I step on

my shadow?

***

still an inch to go

I leave the moon

to her choice

lunar eclipse

***

half moon

night tells me

the other side of the story

***

evening walk

I ask the moon

how many days more

to come full circle

***

drizzle

on the windscreen

the moon plays

hide and seek