This week’s full moon was called the “Corn Moon.” The name originates from Native American tribes as a signal to harvest their corn. Alternative names, “Falling Leaves Moon” and “Autumn Moon,” reflect the transition from summer to fall.

Walter studies his moon charts and graphs to take photographs of the moon at its fullest. This year’s Corn Moon dazzled us at 99.9% illumination. His favorite photos catch it rising and setting—when it appears the largest. I call Walter my “Moon Nerd.”

Since I retired, moved to Virginia, and met Walter, I have learned to appreciate the beauty of the night sky. As the moon rises, my worries fade away and peace blankets the earth. Moonlight is reflected sunlight without the sun’s heat, giving it a cool, gentle energy, calming to the eyes and mind. Its soothing light inspires introspection and mindfulness, allowing me to connect with my creativity. I often write poetry into the night when the world is quiet and sleeping.    

The Blue Ridge Mountain Moon
by Dee Bowlin
								
When eventide darkens the valley 
and silhouettes fade with the sun, 
the moon creeps over the mountain tops
to reward us for a day well done. 
				
It leaves the horizon far behind
to climb up the mountain’s rough slope 
and finally reveals its full glory 
by unfurling its shadowy cloak. 
				
It doles out dim splashes of moonlight 
on hiking trails lined with tall pines, 
awakens the mystical forest 
to untangle the thickets and vines.
				
The moon keeps an eye on the valley, 
entertained by songs of the night, 
dancing to fiddle and banjo tunes 
while it tucks weary children in tight. 
				
Then night owls on earth become moonflowers
and bathe in the nocturnal spell. 
They gather up moonbeams in journals 
to embellish the stories they tell. 
				
When sunlight prepares to trade places, 
the moon bows its head in regret, 
slowly sliding behind the blue ridge 
to wait for tomorrow’s sunset.