Solitary Wolf Moon Ritual

Monday night was clear enough for me to hold a solitary Full Moon Ritual.  I lit a patchouli incense stick, turned off the lights in the house, and slipped outside.  The moon was in the northeast, but high enough and bright enough that the cherry tree cast shadows onto the back yard circle.  The darkness and overgrown grass made it difficult to see all of the bricks in the circle, but I managed to do conduct a simple 101 ritual.  

I met Mark on a Full Moon; we got married on a Full Moon.  I've harped at lunar eclipses; I've swam naked, the silver light of a desert moon casting its wavy net through the water -- but somehow I went back to the Full Moons of Three Hundred and Sixy-Nine Moons ago and imagined I heard the chanting and laughter of ritual circles of the Carleton College Druids, and fancied I felt the rush of many bodies dancing, hands linked, in a deosil ring.  

Then the moment passed, and it was only me, the circle, and rising grey strands of incense weaving between cherry branches and the Moon.