The rest of the travelers in our flying bus napped or stared listlessly at a shiny slab in their lap and the staring yellow orb morphed into a full circle out in the blue. As we banked to the right — a nod to its awakening — it seemed to rest in acknowledgement, hanging for a moment on the invisible horizon.

This was the first time I'd seen the moon like this. All that time on the ground had me convinced such a view didn't exist. Yet here I was, awestruck and growing a kink in my neck.

As soon as it had appeared it was gone, only to emerge an hour later at a higher vantage point. In the black it shone like an astral locomotive coming head-on, but never approaching. It hung there, illuminating a lumpy landscape of clouds below, reminding me of some bright winter night in my past.

Below, tiny sparse clouds hovered above the cities, sparking to life like fireworks in a pillowcase. The world in this light entranced me until we touched down. Among the street lights and headlights I came to again, mesmerized now by the yellows, blues, and whites of the fluorescent city.

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