September moon song
The mist blows across the moon
And makes the low sound of time
That you hear in your bones and eye-sockets,
That old houses hear. The floor boards
Remember when they were part of something bigger
But when they sing to the moon it sounds
Flat, like uncertain foot-falls in a dark hallway.
The screech owl in the backyard
Is like someone who laughs before they have told
The joke and then had no reason to tell it.
And the two voices talking about a dream
One had, up at maple leaf level; they fade
And drift, like a moon across a window pane,
Or the impression on the grass of a possum’s pink feet.
Many of you have joined in our full moon socials over the last few years. Whether you are in the path of totality or not (here in Virginia we’re not but will still see quite a sight) the solar eclipse is another moment in which the moon plays no small part. But what part does it play, for poets? for photographers? artists and prose writers?
On Monday August 21st, I invite you to experience the solar eclipse and join in a social gathering — on WordPress, Facebook, Twitter — and use the hashtag #pathoftotality … I’ll re-blog and re-tweet everything I see.
No special glasses required… unless the poetry is so bad that blackout glasses are required… but I would not bet on that…
Monday, August 21st. Whadda ya say?
Looking to the ground on an overcast full moon evening and seeing the sky
And on waking we move from the month
of vines to the month of ivy.
our own growth relies on support to sensing
and a path we create by ascending.
Thunder moon song
Imagine thunder, a year’s worth of it,
Crammed into a high speed second
Of replay: that’s a cricket.
Imagine a summer lawn full of them,
each chirp a year, an entire night
Of it, just below the grass line while
Above it every firefly’s a conflagration
Over territory, driving extinctions
And drawing death from the sky
Like lightning. Imagine standing
In your yard above it all. Oddly at peace.
Away from the lights of your house.
A few minutes go by. That’s the moon.
Beautiful, shining orb
in space. Insanity reigns.
Reflecting the sun.
As sometimes happens on this site, I like to see what people are writing on the night of the full moon. So tag your poem or photo #fullmoonsocial and I’ll share what I see…
Full Moon and Firefly, early June
in my backyard in an hour’s calm breath
a lifetime of moons can flash in and out
of memory too many to count how many
might we get meanwhile a found penny
rolls slowly copper color up
this one slow night’s dark spine