"Red Dog," I said, "when the moon lies low in the sky, it's usually orange. However, when it rises high, as it is tonight, it becomes silvery white. Do you know why?""Red Dog," I said, "when the moon lies low in the sky, it's usually orange. However, when it rises high, as it is tonight, it becomes silvery white. Do you know why?"
Red Dog lay at my feet as I swung beneath the maple trees. He cocked one ear and looked sideways at me. He didn't even bother to lift his head from the ground. He knew from the tone of my voice that I was saying nothing worth listening to.
"When the moon is low and close to the Earth," I began, "it hears what people are talking about. It hears people laughing and crying and singing songs. Red Dog, when the moon hears the earth's people so close beneath it, what else can it do but glow a cheerful orange?"
"But, when the moon is high... "
I looked beyond the maple's highest limbs and saw again that the moon was very high and very silvery white.
"When the moon is high," I continued, "it is so alone. Then it hears only the stars whispering and what it hears is from so very far away. Red Dog, silvery white is the color of loneliness... "
Red Dog stood and looked at me. Seldom had he heard me speak so long when I sat alone in the swing at night.
Looking high into the sky, Red Dog saw the silvery-white moon. Then he looked into my face. I am sure that he understood what I had said.