No Ansel Adams
but the snapshots we captured
through the open car window
on our eight megapixel cell phones

on the side of the road off an exit ramp
as truck taillights streaked eastbound
opposite the earth’s rotation
in startling calm that evening
a mere dot-glow above dun fields

Look, life is like this, filled
with moments of meaning
paid attention to or not
but we tried we lingered

and sure enough it is here
looming in memory-mind
the fat orange ball above horizon
inching up into blank navy air
the full moon in early spring

we drove toward in silence
~Twyla M. Hansen “Moonrise, Aurora, Nebraska” from Rock. Tree. Bird. 

I now take photos of a cherished moment; before owning a camera, I only took brain snapshots. In my memory, I tend to embroider and edit what I see to make things stick. Usually, photos tell the real story.

However, moon glow is always better in my memory than it is in my photos. The lucent light is something I can feel more than see. Last night, moonbeams woke me by touching my sleeping face. That glow in the shadow of our bedroom was at once ethereal and palpable, something a photo simply can’t capture.

Still, I attempt to preserve these moments to share with others. I linger longingly whenever my eyes are drawn to such a heavenly light, hoping it might touch and illuminate us all.