Tonight is the night of the brightest moon this year, but outside a storm is blowing, cold wind and rain that bites as it is thrown from the sky like tiny arrows. We wait to see if the storm cat will blow through in search of other pleasure, but for now he rattles at doors and windows and rushes in waves over the roof tiles of our low Welsh cottage until we feel like we are in a boat in a storm at sea. So fast and furious, so cold.
Maybe the bright light of the moon will burn through the thick dark cloud. In the meantime we will rest and curl by the fire and wait and listen to the windsong.