Willow,I'm right there!Beautiful.rel
Somehow calling it the beaver moon takes some of the beautiful mystic out of the view. Simply beautiful.
Lovely, lovely poem!
Who the hell called it 'the beaver moon', and what 'mystic' has been taken out of the 'view', Jojo? Why is it beautiful? What are you on?
Beautiful words and photo!
Stunning photo but the poem is simply breathtaking. Thank you. Made my day, really!Noelle
I like the operatic quality to nature's enchantments.
absolutely gorgeous and a bit sexy, too...how could you not swoon at the sight of such a beautiful moon?
Seriously, Willow, I'm waiting for your book. Exquisite.
lovely...I took photos of the moon tonight, too...they look exactly the same! So pretty! Yes, it's 'full' isn't it? Be careful! ha.
Tess, These folks are refering to such a view as a 'beaver moon'? Barbaric! Yes. BARITONE moon. Yes. This is 25% Romeo and Juliet, 25% Frank Langella and Kate Nelligan in Dracula, 25% Jeremy Irons and Juliette Binoche in Damage, 20% smouldering, distanced smart challenge of Malkevich and Close in Dangerous Liaisons, and 5% the Walken/Taylor 'philosophy of hard edge' scene in Abel Ferrara's The Addict.Tight intermingling of nocturnal nature,high culture and sexual impulse. Compression works!Trulyfool(I guess I liked it?)
Wonderful poem on this full moon; this Beaver moon as it is known in November. I think that Jojo should have qualified why she was calling it a beaver moon. Maybe that is where Tom is a bit perplexed. I heard the information today on the radio and it was first described like this by the American Indians of the northern and eastern U.S. It was a way for them to keep track of the seasons and the full moons. It was a time to set beaver traps before the swamps froze in order to ensure a supply of warm winter furs. I'm not sure how or why she means that it "takes some of the beautiful mystic out of the view". To me, it just explains the reason why it was called this. Whatever the case, a Fall full moon is always so beautiful and mysterious looking and I think you really hit the nail on the head with your poetic description of it in your sky. Funny, we just watched a movie called "Dear John" and one of the things that they focused on in the movie was the fact that when you held your thumb up to the moon, no matter where you were, it was always the size of your thumb. So, essentially, we are all looking at the same moon, the same size, no matter where in the world we are. What a wonderful, unifying thought that is. We are all connected to that same view, perhaps at different times of the day, but still connected.
Interesting discussion going on here. Thanks, Teri, for the explanation of the November "Beaver Moon". My view leaned more in the operatic direction!
Trulyfool, I love your steamy couples percentage breakdowns. I'm glad you liked it.
willow--there is some magic going on up there in willow manor--stag deer walking up to your window... a full moon waxing or is it waning? Very intoxicating and always interesting --kudos c
Love the image, and of course the words. These are the best nights to be out conversing with the moon.
Beautiful poem, Willow, and absolutely erotic! Or maybe I have a naughty mind? Rick
Anthony, I love to take an evening walk, just after twilight. It's been especially wonderful this week, watching the moon rise above the trees.
gorgeous and erotic --
A beautiful, sensual poem.
You have saved the experience in a small casket of beautifully chosen words.
Splendid imagery, Willow.
Perfectly matched and perfectly balanced words and images.
It's fun to think the moon I saw last night, was the same moon you saw and wrote about. Reminds me that the world is small, after all. Thanks.
the moon has been lovely these last few days. original, to think of the moon as a baritone with a mouth whole and deep. evocative poem
Beautiful moon, whatever it is called. Lovely poem, too!
So imaginative..a whole new world in this lovely poem!
Love this trenchant and moving poem, proving once again that less can be more. Great imagery in both the photo and the words of the poem.
Willow,A full moon reflects fulfilment and captured so nicely within the poem. Beautiful!
That is a little gem! i love the feel of it in my mouth, especilly the vowels... the various 'O' sounds. Bravo!
Haunting image and wonderful "aria" to accompany it.
Enjoyed, realy enjoyed this one.
To begin with your photo is stunning. With the black backgroundon your site, the image seems toemanate from out of the darkness,seems to almost be alive, andhave three dimensions.Great that trulyfool found thecinematic references in thispolished operatic gem, forthe loges were always themore comfortable seats, themore expensive seats in theold movie palace theatersI grew up with in Seattle,and to move musically, intoletting the satellite movelargo as you must have hearda chorus of some kind, thewind, the rustle of leaf andsprig and stem, the faintpercussion of the Sciotoand the solo of some doghowling far off--and thenthe gender acknowledgment,and the pan into the sensualmouth that will /endeavorto please/; yes, and even morethan that as we imagine yourtwilight walks on the manorgrounds, your first embraceof the evening to come, watching you slip like a specteryourself, a thick shadow amongthe others, there is somethingbeyond sensual, something veryromantic, with that beaver moon, that operatic lunar companionorbiting you as the lovely centerof your moment, in your space--and it is good, as others havetouched on, for all of us towatch the skies when the clouds allow it, and stare atthat same moon; but remembermy pal in Australia, couple ofthem actually has a slightlydifferent view of it.
Do I hear the Queen of the Night?The image is also extraordinary beautiful.Poem and image, a Gesamtkunstwerk.
I can hear the rich tones in this lovely piece Willow, and Glenn, I hate to tell you this, but over Australia he had a sex change and she rises again for you as a coloratura soprano. Enjoy!
What?! Stafford, my dear Man in the Moon baritone? Oh, tell me it isn't so!
This is a delight. 'Baritone moon' - I love the transposition of sound to vision. A small treasure, this.
My, that's quite the luscious little number! A lovely poem, and I much prefer "baritone".
Glenn, I knew you would appreciate Trulyfool's film couples! On my dark walks, I'm sure I could be mistaken for a manor ghost out for an evening stroll. I only frighten away the resident owl.
Dick, if you like it, I'm happy.
Margaret! So good to see you! How's that beautiful little baby?
i've always seen the moon as a bit of an exhibitionist... the sun almost forbids us to gaze upon it, but the moon...ahhhh, the moon tempts and taunts with each daily revealing and then punctuates her display by gliding away behind the dressing veil, again... only to start over again.you have captured some wonder here. concise. powerful. sensual. thank you.
...willow...love the photo and the words....beautiful.so HAPPY to see you today and so HAPPY you made (and liked) the cookies...they really do melt in your mouth... sending Thanksgiving love to you, my friendkaryxxx
Trulyfool must have liked it...he got a great deal out of it~wow~more than most. Love that moon~hope you know I'm just sharing it with you...
Wow. I always say that but honestly I am always wowed by your talents. This one is delicious. Thank you.
Truly sensual. I think you have coined a new phrase with "baritone moon." Photo is gorgeous, too.
Hi!This is wonderfully perfect... i love the way those words amalgamate with the moon so stunningly glowing above... came here via Kim Williams... thank you for a wonderful read...!!!:)Good day!!!:)>kelvin
Blessed Thanksgiving to everyone at Willow Manor....bkm
ah,willow I read this before, and thought of it last night.the clouds were inked blue... blueand it is all too much and yet right there again and again.
My kinda moon by far......!
Moon made man. (And I laugh at my own crudeness - hardly a beaver moon at all.)
A gorgeous and generous voice speaks herein, my dear willow.
Is this one yours too? amazing. So simple and yet invigorating.
Inject a few raisins of conversation into the tasteless dough of existence. ― O. Henry (and me)