La Luna

An uneven cluster of frost lines the bottom of the windowpane and the reflection of the glass wall opposite this window lingers as an illusion somewhere in the depthless glass. But otherwise, the windowpane is a perfect extension to what's on the other side, what they like calling 'A Winter Wonderland.' Not really. It feels more like an extension of Narnia, peering through this sheet of glass to a world I don't normally live in, a world almost magical in its untampered beauty.

A white light filters into this room in the cabin, tame and mysterious at the same time. On the other side of the street stand the neighboring cabins, looking smart and smug. Yet they are not in charge. Snow is the one in charge, and he is an absolute ruler. Snow, in his glistening white glory, wraps his cold embrace around the wooden structures. He dominates the evergreens, burdens their branches. Every so often a cascade falls earthward, so heavy is the weight, and it is as if the trees heave a great sigh.

I see the source of the white light. It is the Moon, casting her illumination over the scene. She resides over the forest, keeping watch as guardian of the earth. And I realize I was wrong. She makes Snow look like a blithering fool in her eery yet beautiful presence, outshines him tenfold. She is mystical, she is captivating, she is a mix of the unknown and the familiar, and I can't tell where one ends and the other begins. It isn't a matter of radiance, it is a certain clarity, grace. She personifies all that has no distinct lines or edges, of the undefined.

I turn away for what seems a moment and a golden hue films the snow, the cabins, the trees. The moon has begun her retreat back into the depths of the sky, where she will wait, alone, until night falls once again. For now, the Sun has taken his turn to rule the horizons of this endless stretch of space we deem a central part of our universe.