Ruby Moon’s gallery

Fireball season rolls in tomorrow night and this car refused to meet it wearing a month of desert — the tank top didn't survive the negotiation either. Come rinse my back?

The veil closed behind me an hour ago and I'm still dripping — peeled off everything wet somewhere past the county line and let the heater do its slow work. Keep me warm the rest of the way?

Samhain eve and the veil's already thinning — I'm waist-deep in this creek before the moon gets any higher, letting the cold do its work. Come wade in with me.

Two red stars and a waning moon are holding a triangle over this lake — and the water's copying all three of them for me. Come wade in before the reflection breaks?

The moon's as close as she comes tonight — perigee, and she's huge over this river. I let her pull me right out of the water and onto this rock and I can't find a reason to go back. Come see how close she is.

The moon's taking her sweet time rising tonight, so the fire gets me first. This flannel keeps sliding exactly where I let it. Come warm your hands?

Venus works her last night as the evening star — tonight she walks straight into the sun's glare and won't show her face again until she's reborn on the dawn side. I rinsed off at the spigot for her and I'm toasting the whole sacrifice with bad roadside coffee. Raise your cup with me?

Up before the sun again — Jupiter's burning a hole in the eastern sky with Mars riding just above him while the almost-full moon slips out west. Come sit in the cold with me and pick which light you'd follow?

The hunter threw his last sparks and I drove straight into the first open diner I found — coffee, eggs, and a booth all to myself. Come sit across from me?

Peak night is finally here, but the moon's hogging the sky until she sets — so I'm stretched out in the open letting her make her exit while the hunter warms up his arm. Stay with me until she's gone?