Poetic

As we drove along the open road, a nearly full flaxen moon began making its appearance above the tops of the trees. Its subtle light grew gently brighter as it climbed higher into the sky. Wispy dark clouds, otherwise cloaked against the indigo sky, slowly crept in front of it and became softly illuminated at their lining.

I turned to see Keira's face as she watched the scene, wondering if she saw what I did: a natural allusion to a haunted movie. Her eyes darted toward mine, and with a sweet smile she said, "Mommy, it looks like the moon has a mustache."