The Face of the Moon

By Katherine Hansen

I will often gaze at the moon, envisioning characters within the chalklike façade.

Some evenings, our lunar globe has the porcelain face of a Greek god, staring through glacial eyes. Unmoved by mere mortals, it is as cold as the atmosphere-less surroundings.

On darker nights, the moon has the disdain of a pockmarked teenager, intent on his own insolence and rebellion.

At times, I see the half-drunken smile of a favourite uncle, brightly regaling a colourful tale of his misspent youth. He glows with recollection.

I am amused by my own imaginings.

Then I wonder, How does the moon see me?