Moonishnessly
We were children then, when we settled on the moon, amid drifts of silver shadows. Our parents were still alive, down on Earth. We had no fear of flying, outside of airplanes, no fear of flying on the wings of birds, daily flights to the moon, one-way flights. We walked on the moon all night long, moonishnessly. And in the morning, covered with moondust, we climbed down to the blue ocean for a salt-water bath.
The Coming of the Toads 
I think that you two are still moving moonishnessly . Maybe , though , without the saltwater baths . Bravo !
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Nice, I especially like the portrait. The parents having a grand time while the children are flying around the moon, stirring up the moondust and creating a special dance of their own. I also love the word moonishnessly.
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Thanks, Barb. “Somewhere there’s music…how high the moon.”
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This is just lovely, leading to a place beyond words.
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Thanks, Ashen: “…Beyond the last thought, rises…” (Wallace Stevens: “Of Mere Being).
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