A seemingly enormous moon low in the evening sky.

We call it our moon because it circles our planet, yet the notion of ownership is at once both misplaced and hopeful. Our species has visited and will walk its dusty surface once again, but for now it remains a source of wonder and pride. We can surely feel it there above us and from its presence derive a sense of our place; here and now and far away. We write poems of love and longing, pen songs of the past and future and mark our calendars against its phases. The tides themselves dance to her circadian song. Seeing an amber moon large and low in the evening sky allows us to dream in that way we do when something new appears, something outside the common geometry of our days. Look at me she says, out there beyond the sky.