Moon

The moon is full above the bay, above the world surrounding this bay. It's so easy to forget how the world envelops the rest of the space around me, around what I see, feel, experience every day. It is a full moon, one of a blue, soon to be harvest moon. Last night the water was still, the ripples absent, the wind hiding behind mountains and desert. I thought of nights becalmed. One would think there would be silence on becalmed nights at sea: no wind, no waves. But the sails luff and the boom creaks slipping back and forth over the centerline of the cockpit where you sit impatiently waiting for a puff of breeze to fill the canvas. The inanimate indecision of the sails is maddening. And it is loud, the clanking of rigging mirroring thoughts and memories. You are waiting for wind that you wonder will ever come. You want the momentum, the pull, but not too much, not too suddenly. Then there it is and you scream in joy or smile in the darkness knowing that the warm breeze will surely last til Costa Rica.
Tonight the moon is fully full rising about salt stained waves. I can hear them against the beach. The sand. The tiny pebbles. The space in between where water gushes and retreats. It is bringing motion and movement and thoughts and feeling bubbling up in lapping licks against the shore.
Every month I can be reminded of the elemental truths. Do I choose to look up, soak in the knowledge of everything that came before? Or do I look straight ahead at the beachside rickety roller coaster lights a-blinking, the bars riotous and damp, the distracting noise?
We are floating in this world. On the sea, in the universe.
The moon already knows this. I want to learn.