As I climbed into bed tonight an unusual light caught my eye. And extraordinarily, for once it wasn’t the lamp-post.
Visible at the very top of the window, just poking out from behind a scaffold pole outside, was a tiny, bright white light. Strangely my tics seemed to work out what it was before I did:
“Hi, high up moon.”
“Moon, I’m worried you might get altitude sickness.”
“Moon, who said you could impersonate a balloon?”
“High moon, high tea or Haiti? Choose.”
“Moon, you got high on the sky.”
I’ve never noticed the moon in that position before. I love the way my tics can always find something new in even the most familiar of views.