The Moon in the Dew — A Japanese Tradition of Quiet Wonder

It is still dark when the first soft rustle breaks the silence.
Gently, almost like a breath, a small hand brushes the bedcover aside.
A warm voice whispers into the darkness:
Come, the moon is waiting for us.

When the full moon stands silently in the sky,
an ancient ritual begins in Japan.
Before the first light touches the horizon,
parents or grandparents wake the children.
Together they step into the silent world,
where breath is held between night and day.

The dew lies heavy on the meadows.
Blades of grass bow under the droplets.
The air is cool, dense, filled with the subtle scent of moist earth.
They walk slowly, almost feeling their way.
Everywhere on the blades rest tiny mirrors,
yet they search for the one drop that holds more:
the light of the moon.
And then, without warning, it is there.
The moon, cradled in a drop, silent and perfect.

They kneel down, movements quiet and small.
In the drop, the moon reflects —
near and untouched.
A moment that can neither be captured nor extended.

Softly, the adults ask the ancient question:
“What happens to the moon when the dewdrop evaporates?”

No answer is expected.
The question remains as it is: open, light as the breath of morning.

Perhaps the moon is not lost.
Perhaps it remains where eyes have seen it,
where the heart has taken it in.

For one breath, the world belongs only to this quiet wonder.
The dew vanishes.
The light remains.

Perhaps the moon still rests in a drop, somewhere in the silent grass.