Tonight

She was turning away by the time I got there, and the stars were clambering out in concern. The dark veil fell across her face, and the wind (wet and heavy with the smell of warm earth) picked up, swirling about with no direction. And when only the last curve of her cheek could still be seen, when perhaps we thought she might leave entirely, she returned. The warm and yet cool glow of her visage was revealed again, and the geese honked their approval of the whole operation.

I know why Coyote loves the moon.