Full moon, why do you haunt me? Wolf moon, blood moon, howling moon, moon of mid-winter lifeless landscapes, why have you come? Do you bring messages from Cathy?
Cathy was beauty, was light, was love. Cathy is gone now, and with her, my humanity. Cathy loved the garden, planted joyous purple and gold and pale green and gentle blue to welcome spring. Now there will be no garden. Now this icy harshness will never melt into a softer season.
Without Cathy, I have become animal. Like the wolves of old, I howl at the wintry moon. I howl for Cathy, my darling, my salvation. I howl at Death, the great Destroyer, the Leveler. I dash outside into the cold, into the eternal winter, into the snow-covered garden. I raise my fists to the moon. I curve my mouth into a whimpering smile. I call out her name, begging forgiveness, but there is only bitter silence. I dance the ancient dance, stomping the ground beneath me, never noticing the brave circle of tiny crocuses, delicate and full of hope. Flowers of spring, flowers of life, much too fragile. Like Cathy.
Purple blossoms, crushed and broken on the pure white snow, under the howling blood-red moon.