Black line flash sheet of twelve crescent moon designs, each labelled with a month and a moon name and filled with a geometric symbol.

Twelve monthly moon flash designs

Geometric · Black and grey · Flash

A black and white flash sheet showing twelve designs arranged in two columns, one for each month from January to December. Each design pairs a bold lettered month and moon name with a crescent base and a central geometric symbol, such as a flame, a lightning bolt, a triangle pattern or a flower. The ink is solid black on a plain white background, with even spacing that makes each design easy to compare.

Geometric Moon Crescent Flower Flame Lightning Triangle Fruit Geometric pattern Lettering

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You learn the moons before you learn the locks. Your mother kept the almanac pinned above the stove on the narrowboat Heron Ash, and every page carried the same cradle of a crescent at its foot, a small black moon holding up whatever symbol the month had earned. January was the Old Moon, so you greased the paddle gear and kept the coal dry. February was the Storm Moon, when the towpath turned to brown soup and the water rose over the bank at Coldmere Flight. She sat you on the cabin step with a flask and told you to watch the lightning walk across the fields like something looking for a door.

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The summer moons were easier. The Growing Moon brought hawthorn along the cut and the lock-keeper's spaniel swimming after ducks. Flower Moon meant lilies on the backwater, and Honey Moon meant bees drunk on the bramble. The Mead Moon kept the pub at the top lock open until midnight, and your mother came back smelling of it and laughing at the stars. In August the Lightning Moon came in hot and short, and you counted the seconds between flash and thunder with your lips moving, always getting it wrong.

By October, the Travel Moon, you could read the almanac without her finger on the line. You worked the boat through the flight alone while she called instructions from the roof. In December she could no longer climb the step, so you sat with the book on your knees and turned it back to January. She had drawn a blank crescent there in pencil, with no symbol inside it yet, and beneath it, in her looping hand, she had written: your turn to name it.