It is the fourth night I eat the same meal. I really should learn to cook smaller portions. But it tastes good and every day I add something different to the dish so there is some variety.
I need to hurry if I want to be in time for the sunset. I put the food in a bowl and take a bottle of water from the fridge. All ready!
As I sit down on the terrace I can see the mountain in the distance emerging from its all day clouds.
In the field I see the wolf walking towards me. Him and the hawk that is following him through the evening sky went hunting.
They sit beside me and together we wait for the sun to set and to pain the sky in all its majestic shades of orange and indigo.
I love sitting here in the ivory tower watching the sunset I tell my spirit animals. The hawk looks at me with piercing eyes, he can see right into my soul and my brain picks up the murmurs of the wolf: do not talk rubbish woman, it is full moon, that is what you love.
And that, I admit.
Well he meet her tonight? I ask him.
No he will chase here in his own darkness. She is not following him tonight.
Sinead o’Connor on the kitchen table sings about the universe within me. And I breath in and out, trying to capture this moment of total tranquility.
The sky changes color, the mountain is a sharp dark shape against the fading sunlight. The land under me slowly turn black. Trees and shrub disappear. Where once was grass and the footprints of the wolf, now is rules darkness. For 12 hours.
The days are equal here, 12 hours light, 12 hours night. 12 Hours sun or rain and 12 hours moon or pitch black darkness when the moon is dressing up for the next month.
Not tonight, tonight the field will light up in her silver light. She will climb the sky, majestic and feed our souls, minds, hearts……
With her rising, stories will be born, words will become phrases and phrases will become paragraphs until chapters are born, one after another.
Tonight will be a good night.
The wolf rests his head on his paws, the hawk says goodnight and takes of, there is s slight rustle of feathers as his wings catch the wind.
Now it is just you and me wolf, I speak softly.
You, me and the moon.