Star Light, Star Bright

Yesterday, just after 5:00pm, I looked into the frozen blue sky to find Venus. The setting sun was still completely above the horizon and its dazzling light reflected off windows and fresh snow. Over the last several months I've tried to spot Venus as early each day as I could, so I knew where to look, even though Matilda suggested it was still too light to find it. I'd read that Venus is the only celestial object visible during the day, best seen in clear, cold weather; you need to know where to look.

Just as I gave up, Venus' tiny spark caught my eye. It was so delicate and warm, so fragile and far away I marvelled at its sudden appearance. It had been there the whole time, shining despite the sun (or because of it, of course), shining through the brightness of the sun. Once I caught hold of it I could not loose it again. Matilda looked on and said after a bit that she saw it, too. I hope she did.

As I have each night I've found Venus in early hours of the deepening sky, I made a wish and turned to home and sauna.
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The waxing moon lights our bed in the deep hours of night. For the past few nights I've watched it fall across the windowsill, over our bedsheets, onto Melina sleeping by my side. There is a stillness in moon light that calms a restless heart.

If I could choose to live as sun or moon light, I'd wish to be the latter. But my harsh empirical nature is more akin to the former.