NATURE'S BOWL

Watching the moon, there is an intrinsic sense we have a lot in common. Mentally, like the ebb and flow of her tides; we are all affected. Just as with the seasons.

We are as busy as any creature who must use her tides; as must the crabs which sift the sand. Yet when the waves beyond the reef begin to break back over the places we were granted to walk upon; our climate hastens before the sea engulfs all feelings we had, with an even greater regard. Like the crabs they must return to their shelter; and we too must hurry back before it overwhelms us.

The pendulum of the tides swing back to our life, toying with our feelings; just as when the sun has set, but the moon is still there, and now very visible. We are as vulnerable to turn to her lover's light of pearl, or experience the shadows which lurk where we can no longer see as we did in the sun of the day. Yet she is the dutiful wife and lover of this sun, and must follow without a choice. She and her gravity along with the sun, must keep the earth moving, just like the clock-work of her tides.

We can feel her silvery glow and bath in the milky rays of her night; setting emotions of wonder and awe alight and as warm as a soul-mate's arms. Yet if dark clouds should gather her path and ours, our mood swings back to feelings which stir from another realm when the wind joins in.

When all the water she and her sun have drawn up from their springs, and rivers, oceans and seas, have turned to driving rain, both are covered. Gone from sight, we are left feeling to fend for ourselves; as our status turns to battling the their elements; joined by a miserable wind-change. From calm and serene to slippery and wet, we find ourselves in the dark of the storm we never saw coming. Moon-struck we were caught unaware that she wept too... just like us.

For some it is where we are born and belong to the earth, that we are better adapted. Equatorial humidity can create almost an oppressiveness - yet becomes a joyful warm monsoon rain to modify the temperature - swinging into a happy heart. Like the tides we are lapping the shores of life's weatherly ebb and flow again; even if inland. There is a new feeling of a different type. One which swells the fruits called tropical, which need the water just like us who splash and play with new vigor.

Like the waxing and waning moon, she never fails; rain hail or shine, her duty is always to be where she must be. To pull with a magnetic force all

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