Wow Moon

Full Moon  February 1, 2026

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Because money is seen as the sole, or almost sole, motive for nearly all actions and the sole, or almost sole, measure of all things, the poison of inequality has spread everywhere.

          —Simone Weil, from The Need For Roots (1943)

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I have such love when I come into the flush sun of benevolence

like the synchronous blessed feeling of being the person found

by someone looking only for you after the dream of honest union

overtook them in a zoom meeting or being ushered into the dentist chair

after fool-grinning at the plush baby sitting on her plusher father’s lap

in the waiting room—don’t you know (I know you do) that we have this

capacity for softening into silence at the grace of Judy the neighbor

one block over who puffs up the hill better than any driverless car

she’s 84 & fell around the corner & tells me how much things change

when you break your arm just like that & we could pass the whole brusque

gray winter day exchanging accounts of this kind of thing: sweeping the sidewalk

nodding to joggers, the evergreen elevator joke, the incongruent comedy shrug

as the interminable line snakes & time holds still for an absurd selfie

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we make it up as we go along

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or that’s how it seems today

as the world tugs at our attention & we somehow remain earthbound

sometimes capable of feeling the gravity in our soles, our bums

our easygoing capacity for being here now

all flawed & furious, fearful of the unknown— sure

but also misty-eyed & glorious, silly-serious to a committed practice

this intention to return to balanced equitable grace so the future ones

(whom we worship)

may say of us:

wow

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