The three venture past their scraped-out-place into compacted snow covering their feet. Forgot to look for the moon. Soleil showers trees in orange light making her way up the hill not interested in animal paths or following.

     Under a brightening horizon, landscape dark undefined. No eyes shine. No birds call. Nothing falls. Nothing cracks. No traffic noise. No wind. Zayne stands on the ramp until the red truck, lights on, leaves the drive. Half a moon lingers. Deer tracks circle to avoid climbing over a mountain of snow.

     Zsolt sits beside the bed watching the hall while I get dressed tail sweeping the rug like a windshield wiper. I remain behind glass as the three pass through the portal. Soleil awakens gray sky. Snow vanished on radar before reaching us.

     No orange streaks the sky or curtains, the only orange this morning is my coffee cup, my calcium capsule. Sky gray, dark like an ominous summer day in Georgia before thunder before lightning before rain. Unlike Georgia, after this storm, the sun will not shine, the temp will not return to 90+ blistering degrees drying everything as if it never rained. Snow falls invisibly collects on the railing, the car. The three stand in line to be dried, sit for a biscuit. Zsolt puts his head under my hand, moves when I move closer than shadow. Living with giants means awareness, where is Zayne’s ball he only plays with twice a day as I measure food into dog dishes? I must turn on lights at night because Ruger (black German Shepherd) can’t be seen sleeping in the hallway guarding.

     Luna wears a scarf of clouds that at times blows over her face. Her rays cannot reach my bedroom window. I wonder about the temperature on the moon. Does it snow there? Something cracked or a tree fell when we ventured out for morning rituals. The three noticed, looked, did not bark. Frost obscures car windows, heat-seeking solar panels that create night light. A crow calling, traffic droning. I lean against the railing to capture morning’s picture gather frost with my sleeve.

     Zayne, usually the first to come inside, lingers looking toward the pond, toward the drive as if he expects, as if he knows something is there. I would never see it, scanning the landscape without my glasses that fog coming from warm to cold, if it froze. Zayne glanced behind him finally agreeing to come inside. From this window, gray sky. To the east muted sun, blue seeping into gray, clouds.

     I scan the woods toward the pond looking for the eyes close to the ground that watched us yesterday while the three perform morning rituals. Moon shines: stars bright last night have rescinded their light. Sparse feathery clouds. Silence.

     Orange defines eastern horizon. Luna makes her way through trees to amaze going-to-work drivers. Perhaps some will stop to take her picture. Some will just watch her; some may even calculate how many lumens light her.

     Full Snow Moon shines through blinds not quite closed reading my mind. “You have me. Why do you need snow?” The warned storm did not come.

     Looked for unseen moon yesterday, at one point Luna a hazy vision, by 1900 she wore a halo surrounded by black not stars. Tonight, we might see Luna crowned Full Snow Moon if the storm allows. Soleil this morning, muted.

     Eastern horizon an orange ribbon fraying into gray. I haven’t heard the rooster this year; I can’t recall the last time. Furnace exhaust shapes ghostly apparitions that fascinate only me. The three look beyond their scraped-out patch past fence of snow inside black chain links. When will we be able to run again? Roll in the dirt? Where’s the sun? The Giants put their heads on my shoulder when I lean over, when I say, ‘hug.’

     I woke up hearing the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi. I remember singing this in choir.