Monday, November 26, 2007
I'm a full moon junkie. Once a month, late at night, you can find me out in my backyard (or wherever I am) howling at the full moon. I used to hold back on those instincts until about 9 years ago, when my dearly departed friend, Roxan told me that she'd climb to the top of the grain silo and let loose with an ululating cry whenever the moon was full. "Just try and stop me." She said. "I can't not do it!" Anymore, I'm right there with ya, Rox!
I've always felt the tug of the moon - I get restless when the big headlight shows up in the sky; I don't sleep; I prowl the house; I get downright horny, dammit; I go feral! Whatever animal is left in me from whichever past life, or predisposition honed from dregs of my ancestral evolution, comes to the surface and wants out. No worries, it stops shy of me growing hair on my knuckles and needing to chew on some warm blooded creature. (Here, kitty, kitty...)
Needless to say, I'm very tired today. Tired, but feelin' fine, alive, and aware.
Anyone else out there feel the same inclination? Don't hold back. Howwwwwwl with me. Get in touch with your inner animal. Run wild.
"I'd rather be a dog, and bay at the moon, than such a Roman.
Posted by Barb Black at 5:34:00 AM