My daughter, Joie messaged me tonight saying how big and red the moon was. Now, you guys know that I’ve had a long lasting, never ending crush on the moon for as long as I can remember, so without even thinking about it I grabbed my camera and drove like a mad woman to Roseland Park, where I knew I’d have a good view. Phoebe, (named after a Titan lunar goddess) my faithful guard dog was along for the ride. Roseland isn’t the best place to do night photography. Too many lights. But I was able to zoom past the lights to get this shot. Handheld, 600mm, (super heavy lens!) 1/100sec, f6.3, so not ideal… but I ain’t mad at it!
What is it about the moon? Why do we find so much romance in her? She’s a big rock hurling thru space, yet we attribute so much mystery to her. She figures prominently in literature, lore, poetry, song, magic… We personify her, treat her like she’s a friend, or a lover, or even an advisor. Look at me now… I’m even using personal pronouns when describing HER!
I love her at every phase, from waxing/waning sliver of a crescent, to bursting full. I even love the invisible “new moon,” when she hides so we can see her sister stars even better.
She shines bright, a celestial enigma,
Her face veiled in shadows of mystery.
A silent witness to tales of love and longing,
She keeps secrets whispered in the night.
Her beauty stirs the soul,
Inspiration of myth and lore,
The Moon, she keeps my secrets,
And guides me in the darkness with her gentle glow.
Hello Butterfly! 
Not sure about “she” but wholeheartedly agree with almost magical personifications.
And perhaps magical after all.
I too am in Loves with an orb.