Yarikh, come back. Yarikh? YARIKH!

It’s 5:30 in the morning, 5:31 and that looks like a total eclipse coming on. “Blood moon” they said in an online newspaper last night, and there it is. First time I watched one was in the early nineteen-forties, Mama kept me up to watch and we did from start to finish. That was our front yard. More than seventy years later, this is my only time watching the moon extinguish itself before my eyes in the southwestern sky from the fifteenth floor balcony of a Gulf front condo

Seeing, it’s easy to understand ancients believing they had angered Yarikh and if we sacrifice a few people the Lesser Light will return and not abandon us to the darkness. Jorah, we call him, the Illuminator.

And God said, “Let there be lights in the dome of the sky to separate the day from the night; and let them be for signs and for seasons and for days and years, and let them be lights in the dome of the sky to give light upon the earth.” And it was so. God made the two great lights—the greater light to rule the day and the lesser light to rule the night—and the stars. God set them in the dome of the sky to give light upon the earth, to rule over the day and over the night, and to separate the light from the darkness. And God saw that it was good.

Ah, so it isn’t Jorah, it was Elohim all along.

But a chill, dank fog bank has rolled in and now I can see nothing. Nothing. Maybe Yarikh is angry after all.