Oh Nissa/Nisa, silvery, feminine orb in my window. It’s 5:17 AM and here I am, wide awake again. TS Erika (I like writing that instead of Hurricane) promises yet more rain on our flooded, soggy grounds here in Florida so her clouds creep at 18 mph to bathe our skies, obstructing the shine, but not blocking it out by any means. This has to cancel the rocket set to fly free Monday just 12 miles from my 100 year old house. The moon has always been my friend. As a child I recall my Mother telling me it was God’s flashlight. Oh, and thunder & lightening were dwarves bowling. Don’t parents believe we’re going to learn they’ve lied to us again and again? Well, night owl that I am, I crave the moon. As the years increase, it’s as if the glow is electric, overcharging my whole body, filling that place in my abdomen that makes me feel I’ve had too much coffee. I can’t even think sometimes. This can happen only once a month, as my brain is a blender all other moments. Nothing can quiet my soul during a full moon, nothing.