High Moon

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.

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