Whatever name you prefer to use for it – the Cold Moon, the Long Night Moon, the Oak Moon, the Wolf Moon, or simply the Moon before Yule – I’m afraid I don’t have a photo of last night’s full moon.
I do, however, have a number of poems with the moon in them.
Here’s one of them:
High-beam headlights reveal
glimpses of the road ahead
ribboning grey into the dark.
To the north, a belisha globe rises
behind mountains made ragged
by pines. He says, I’ve driven
to the moon and back three times
at least. She watches his hands
on the wheel and hopes
he’ll take her with him