Last night I looked up from my book and was startled to see the full moon gazing back at me. The moon is even more of a stranger in March in Oregon than the sun! Rising like a pearly balloon over the park, it floated among the tree branches, silhouetting the swelling buds. Over the phone lines, beyond the tops of the distant redwoods, shrinking as it rose, I watched it climb until it disappeared above my window. I found myself thinking how I would paint it as I gazed… so, I painted it! Now it just needs a poem, or a haiku…