Whispers of Moonlight
A 🐢 prompt
For my lovely 🐢 friends…
The moon spills across the threshold as day surrenders to shadow. In this liminal hour, the world exhales its secrets. A symphony of whispers only darkness dares voice.
Night-blooming jasmine unfurls its petals like a prayer written in porcelain. It releases perfume so intoxicating it summons moths from miles away. They dance in spirals, their wings catching fragments of starlight, weaving patterns that spell out ancient incantations in a languages older than words.
In the depths of an ancient oak, spotted owls glide on silent wings. Their flight a meditation on grace. Their calls pierce velvet air. Haunting notes harmonize with the rustle of leaves. Distant howls of coyotes paint loneliness across hills draped in moonbeams.
In the underbrush, creatures emerge from their daylight hiding places. Foxes step delicately through dew-kissed grass. Their amber eyes reflect secrets they'll never tell. Raccoons wash their midnight feasts in silver streams. Their tiny hands performing rituals of cleansing beneath the watchful gaze of constellations.
Streetlights become lonely sentinels, casting amber pools where cats slink through shadows, their eyes twin emeralds holding mysteries. Windows glow like scattered stars, each one a story unfolding ~ lovers whispering promises, insomniacs brewing tea, children dreaming of dragons or distant worlds.
In gardens, four o'clocks burst open as if kissed awake by twilight. Evening primrose unfolds its butter-yellow bloom Moths hover at the edge of perception, their wings beating invisible prayers.
The darkness holds truth stripped of pretense.
Bats write cursive against the star-drunk sky.
In this cathedral of shadow and starlight, where moonbeams awash the earth with silver pools, the night reveals its greatest secret ~ we are all nocturnal creatures at heart. Yearning for the courage to bloom, to sing when the darkness promises to keep our melodies safe.
The night cycle spins eternal, mysterious, & full of magic that daylight burns away. In these hours, we remember what it means to be wild, to be secret, to be beautifully, impossibly alive in the space between sunset and dawn.
Here, in whispered moonlight, everything is possible.
Distilled..... wonderfully felt. Our moon filled me in the very early morning now...