"The Night Of The Twin Moons" by Jennifer H. Berry (A shadow of the night)

It was a dark winter’s morn. The twin moons glared like watching eyes over the frost-dusted land, hushing uneasy birds, stilling the breeze, causing the world to fall silent and freeze like a paused film, as if waiting for the signal to once again begin its motion around the star that is, for this eternal moment, held just beyond the horizon, as if put on a high shelf, out of reach, by a well-wishing mother.

Twin moons, both full and large, hanging, glowing orbs that align in this way only once a lifetime. Shining out brave and bold, they take possession of the land, owning it for this one night, walking its streets, dancing across treetops to the heartbeat of the silence, leaving no hint of their passing except an enchanted memory. Undulating and flowing, their pure white light cleanses the land, caressing it with soft curious fingers, like a jewel rarely glimpsed.

On the night of the twin moons, we watch and are watched as of one wonder to another.