I have not seen the moon since you and I went up the hill to dance. I have only taken a white rose that was tumbling over an old woman's wall, and laid it in your hands like a prayer. Maybe the moon is a prayer the earth has made, and the sun is patiently answering. Maybe I will see it tomorrow.
The final issue of Suburban Magic has been published. It contains twenty-one pages on healing our relationship with wild magic. If you are interested in the series, you may still obtain it at my books page.