We hurry to the beach. Tonight’s the Super Moon. Houses glow with electronic screens. Too bad people sit home with TV rather than look at something real. My wife agrees, says they’ll see photos on the news instead. I don’t feel smarmy, just sad. When we reach the beach, we are so intent on the horizon that we miss what is in front of us. The beach is full. People sit on blankets, kids race around barefoot. A woman says, “Move, Nicky—let the ladies sit down.” The moon rises, huge and orange. When it clears the horizon, everyone applauds.
Dawn Paul is the author of the novel The Country of Loneliness and What We Still Don’t Know, poems on scientist Carl Linnaeus.