It was just before a full moon, the blue moon. Maybe that had something to do with it. Maybe the light is always soft and I just noticed. Either way, I couldn't resist it. I observed its texture and form, so grateful for its almost-living presence. There are stories in the light, of course, but we'd never see them without the darkness. The soft light lets reality in gently. Note the soft edges, the color. Light has as much shape as the things it illuminates. Can you see it dancing?