After changing into more appropriate garb (it was quite chilly out) I headed for the front door, grabbing the tripod as I went. There it was, shining brightly through the branches of a collection of pine trees opposite my front porch. I referred to the moon as 'it'. Many assign a gender to the orb. My immediate instinct is to say the moon is a male to the female sun. Different cultures and their mythos hold different views on the subject. I looked it up, and found more feminine names than male. The site "20,000 Names.com" lists quite a number of names with their origins.
For as bright as it was, the area of illumination was somewhat limited. Focusing the camera was a tad "off. Usually, when I photograph the moon, I can see a ring around it's perimeter when it is in clearest focus with my current camera. This time I wasn't getting that. Either the moon was a bit fuzzier than usual, or my physical state of focus was translating to the camera. I have been feeling a tad "off". Anyway, I took a collection of shots through trees, since there weren't any clouds to make my pictures more interesting. I am pretty happy with them. They turned out to be rather abstract.
"The Man in the Moon Came Down Too Soon"
by J.R.R. Tolkien
There is an inn, a merry old inn
beneath an old grey hill,
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Main in the Moon himself came down
one night to drink his fill.
The ostler has a tipsy cat
that plays a five-stringed fiddle;
And up and down he saws his bow
Now squeaking high, now purring low,
now sawing in the middle.
The landlord keeps a little dog
that is mighty fond of jokes;
When there's good cheer among the guests,
he cocks an ear at all the jests
and laughs until he chokes.
They also keep a horned cow
as proud as any queen;
But music turns her head like ale,
And makes her wave her tufted tail
and dance upon the green.
And O! the rows of silver dishes
and the store of silver spoons!
For Sunday there's a special pair,
And these they polish up with care
on Saturday afternoons.
The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,
and the cat began to wail;
A dish and a spoon on the table danced,
The cow in the garden madly pranced
and the little dog chased his tail.
The Man in the Moon took another mug,
and then rolled beneath his chair;
And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,
Til in the sky the stars were pale,
and dawn was in the air.
Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:
"The white horses of the Moon,
They neigh and champ their silver bits;
But their master's been and drowned his wits,
and the Sun'll be rising soon!"
So the cat on the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,
a jig that would awake the dead:
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,
While the landlord shook the Main in the Moon:
"It's after three!" he said.
They rolled the Man slowly up the hill
and bundled him into the Moon,
While his horses galloped up in rear,
And the cow came capering like a deer,
and a dish ran up with the spoon.
Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;
the dog began to roar,
The cow and the horses stood on their heads;
The guests all bounded from their beds
and danced upon the floor.
With a ping and a pang the fiddle-strings broke!
the cow jumped over the Moon,
And the little dog laughed to see such fun,
And the Saturday dish went off at a run
with the silver Sunday spoon.
The round Moon rolled behind the hill,
as the Sun raised up her head.
She hardly believed her fiery eyes;
For though it was day, to her surprise
they all went back to bed!