The Night the Moon Wore Mittens
A Note from The Winter Child Poet
Tonight I looked up at the sky and felt something strange and soft in my chest — as if the moon itself was feeling a little shy. Its glow was pale, almost hesitant, like a child unsure whether to step into the cold. That is where the poem began. With the simple thought that even the moon might need comfort sometimes. I imagined it pulling thin clouds around its hands like mittens, trying to keep warm while drifting through the deep blue of night. I’ve always believed that the sky listens quietly to us. And on nights like this, when the moon feels timid, I think it hears even the smallest whispers of kindness. So in the poem, the child speaks gently to reassure it. Not loudly, not bravely — just honestly. There is something beautiful about offering comfort to something larger than yourself. Children know how to do this without being taught. They wave at faraway things, believing the distance does not lessen the meaning. And sometimes the light waves back. When the moon answered with its shy silver beam, I felt a truth settle over the snow: that courage does not always shine boldly. Sometimes it flickers. Sometimes it hides behind clouds. Sometimes it trembles like a lantern in the wind. But it is still courage. And children always notice it — even when adults forget to look. I wrote this poem to remember that nights are not only bright or dark. Some nights are tender. And on those nights, the moon teaches us that softness is also a kind of light. Read the full poem and analysis tomorrow 9th: https://alkonda.com/2025/12/09/the-poem-of-the-day-58/© Al Konda · The Poetry Elite