Here in San Francisco, the moon is sliding out from beneath the inky shadow of Earth.
The sky was smudged with clouds tonight, making it hard to appreciate the full effect of this rare eclipse, and yet: just knowing that it was happening in the sky above me made my heart sing.
I grabbed my camera and ventured into the cold, trying to capture the gentle curve of the moon as she emerged, but alas; she darted out of my viewfinder, leaving me with only a streaky smear. But I couldn't possibly be cross. I adore the moon in all of her phases: thin and curved, like a talisman worn to a smooth, shiny crescent by a worried thumb; or round and shining, an opalescent pool glinting in the far reaches of the sky.
Ancient cultures alternately feared and revered the lunar eclipse. The so-called "dark phase" of the moon has been linked with many significant historical events, from the crucifixion of Christ to the fall of Constantinople to the death of Herod.
And here it is again ~ with you and with me, on this twenty-first day of February, in the year two-thousand and eight.
Wherever you are, I hope your heart is beating wildly beneath the hazy dome above you and that you're celebrating the swing of the planets across the dance floor of the sky.
