I love the moon on a cold winter’s night. Because it’s the only light that alleviates the melancholy of a season devoid of sunshine, devoid of life, devoid of softness in any form. When all the day has been a million shades of gray and you couldn’t differentiate between a dawn and a twilight, the night seems like a respite. Winter afternoons are more, rough than winter nights. Often on winter nights I go for walks and on these wanderings, I learnt that the moon wasn’t just waning or waxing, there was so much more to it, I would walk around in its silver shadow and the light drizzle from the winter sky, to keep me company.
I long for the moonshine on a cold winter’s night
Maybe I just long for anything that shines
It’s my stairway to heaven
On cold foggy nights
The sky in its brumous glory
Everything is dead to the touch
Walking on pavements lit in neon
I often stared at the sky watching the halo of a premonition
A premonition of a storm
A moonbroch it is called
The shining glory preparing me for a tingling numbness yet to arrive
I was mesmerized by the silver lake in the sky
If I could collect those moondrops in a crystal jar
I would definitely try
It is a symbol of the glimmer I always chase
A moonshine to put me in a daze.
-Anshudha Garimella
