Earlier this week I led a silent hike through the Fore River Sanctuary in the dark for 14 hearty souls. With careful steps through the woods we snuck up on Jewell Falls, a true gem of the Portland Trails system, to revel and relax in the company of its post-thaw gurgle.
As we walked I carried a poem in my pocket just in case the urge to ponder something profound presented itself. But in the end I left it pocketed, and we simply walked with quiet scuffles over uneven terrain and the thuck thuck thuck of boots sunk shallow in the sticky mud of early spring.
Walking back from the falls we talked, forging fresh friendships with casual conversation.
The moon was full. I know that from the calendar of lunar rhythms, not first hand. The clouds were out. But still, the moon was illuminating the open places on our path by pressing its own reflected light from the expanse of space into the blanket of clouds. It made the clouds glow. And we illuminated the dark portions of the path from the other side of the blanket, with lamps and lanterns and laughter.