september 2021
Blesséd be Luna, reborn in the dark
I step quietly to you, in this time before things.
As you grow, shade sister, to your harvest blush,
blesséd be your cosmic milk,
blesséd be your velvet secrets,
blesséd be your tactile scars,
blesséd be your sinewy pull,
and blesséd be your journey -
from mystery hush,
to the sound of your shine
Your wry wary words,
deft, and kind,
that I brushed away,
as if they were weightless
now rattle roller-coasting
wide ellipses in my skull,
each loop a queasy pinch
of hard-earned truth you gave of
If only I could power
the fog lamp on the front cart,
its searching beam could splash on
something other than thundering tracks.
Howling weeks
uncurl ahead
At this depth,
light is a promise
The fall pine lays dead,
no sound was made
new seed is held
in a cold soil womb
If saplings hoist
through thunder and hail,
fronds could jostle,
branches, embrace –
give succour and shelter
to crawlers and flyers,
as roots thrum in soil
and bark hugs a core
More daylights must dapple
wolf moons must croon
Will these gusts disperse?
Will wildflowers yawn?
