There’s a watchtower moon tonight. I have never actually stood on a watchtower. Most of the castles that actually had watchtowers are probably protected from tourists clambering all over them these days, anyway; but often when I see a moon such as this one I think of a castle and a watchtower and how awe-inspiring it would be to see a moon of this size from one.
The Vikings or the Romans wouldn’t be able to do much sneaking around under such a moon. Everything would be illuminated under the clear white light. You would even be able to see the arc of an arrow or the hurl of a knife.
Such a moon rises slowly. Like a giant getting up from a late afternoon nap, still drowsy and hungry for his supper.
I think of Bob Dylan’s song All Along The Watchtower as I look at the moon. The Hendrix version, resonant with the breath and blood of the sixties, and as I remember the guitar soaring up and out as if played on the watchtower itself I wonder if Dylan saw a moon such as this when he wrote the song.
It would be fitting if he had.
If I had been a soldier on the battlements keeping the view I would have been sacked for moongazing. Or I would have spent my nights recklessly daring anyone or anything to emerge from the shadows.
The clouds stream past the watchtower moon like veiled nuns. They are too wind-strewn to cover it. From this perspective it appears more indomitable than the earth beneath my feet.
I turn out the lights and watch, eyes wide as a child.
*Image by Crystal Starr on DeviantART