Forget the physics of it - the tides, all that jazz. I love that big pale orb up in the sky. ALways different - waxing, waning, full - and utterly consistent in its changeability, spilling that eerie bone-white light over desert and wood and water, calling wolf-song, spinning dreams.
The shadows outside are so sharp I can cut my hand on them if I reach out to touch them.
I almost feel as though I ought to be planning a sacrifice.