General

The moon in her dappled beauty spun, ever in perfect synchrony with her heavenly companion.

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Into the black heavens, upon this clear night, comes the grace of white-gold moon.

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If the moon appeared anew in the sky upon a clear and starry night, in that instant it would elevate the souls of all to some higher plane.

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In monochrome musings the moon is a deep silver ballerina, turning pirouettes with perfect form.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, January 13, 2019*.
General

The moon in eternal stoic grace takes her place in the heavens, content to ever-reflect the light of the sun.

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Bathed in the light of the sun, the moon was more beautiful than even the stars around.

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The moon came to the sky as a mother comes to sing a soft lullaby, to ease her children into a star-filled night.

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The moon graced the sky as if she'd had some bright idea, something brilliant needed to shine upon the Earth.

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The moon reflected the pure rays of the sun, and in doing so became as beautiful as our star of the daytime.

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The moon was a warm milky glow in the sky, as if the sight of it could become a song in the eyes of anyone willing to raise their head upward.

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Amid the starlight was the ever glow of the moon, that mother of the sky whom watched over every beating heart, steady and true.