Looking up to the soft Moon,
a pale light filters
through her soul.
"It is I," she declares, "I am
the Moon, the Sun, and the Stars.
I am the heart of Nature."
Black hair streaming
in raven-wonder down her back,
cascading into moon-beamed
silkiness. It is the night
of the Moon's harvest
when all things become full,
become ripened. She cries out
her pleasure at the awakening
dusk, the fast-moving dawn
of fertility. She is a stalk
of corn growing tall and green
with a full ear, a maize cob.
And, the soft Moon
moans in anticipation
as she reaches up to receive
the emerging life, the filtered
light...of the Moon's heart.
