By the time I've ventured outside, the moon is already halfway up the sky, this dazzling orb the size of a very large golf ball -- well, from where I'm sitting -- brighter than anything except my phone screen. It is beautiful as it illuminates the canal, casting the houses and lights in soft glow. And it travels further upward still, large and round and perfect.
It's the big pizza pie moon, Cosmo's moon eternalized in Moonstruck: the enormous celestial sphere stalking Brooklyn's backyards.
A soundtrack of chirping crickets accompanies its journey while I'm nestled in the hammock, gazing into the universe. Bands of clouds span like safety net below the trapeze upon which it balances high above.
What glorious life to be here to witness its simple beauty!
It rises higher still, this balloon let go of and floating across the night sky, seemingly brightening as it gains altitude.
And I smile into the stillness, squinting as I follow its path.
(c) 2017 Iris B. Struller