Moon

Through a tunnel of gnarled branches garlanded with moss

She reveals herself

I am startled by the beauty of this tunnel vision

Fulsome goddess of the night

 

Waxing towards the full wolf moon

When the howls of the hungry grow sharp and ready to bite

Into the deepening dusk

She wears the washed out blue of the wintry sky like a holy mantle

 

As the dusky blue fades into graying shades

Each shadow on the distant surface grows crisp

Up, up she rises

Ascending her arc to balance the pull of those pinprick stars

And in that balance exert her own pull

On tides and blood and mood

Counting each repetition with predictable precision

Never late

Her face is clear and never needs makeup

So she doesn’t linger but glides with stately grace

Across the panoply of space

Reflecting the benediction of the sun

More than mirror she is balance

And unbalance

Beacon for lovers and the lost

Timemarking

Celestial calendar that needs no illustrations or mortal numbers

Dependable as tomorrow

Full of promises

Night’s goddess

 

David Trudel   ©  2013