I don't so much boogie with the moon.
Our dance is slower paced, measured even,
as the earth spins days into months, shifting gently underneath my moving feet.
I love her constant steady change,
The whole way from fat to nowhere to be seen.
But she’s always still there, dancing slowly, in and out of shadows and reflected light.
She knows for sure when she’s coming, when she’s going,
Always circling the point. Predictable perhaps (once you know the steps),
Yet mysteriously compelling, constant re-telling of heavenly bodies in love with flight.
The moon is inside me, Emotion- as energy in motion,
stills my beating heart,
slowly slowly opening everything,
graceful and glorious,
rolling around my pelvic bowl,
holy wholly stepping up and in and all the way out with faith and fate,
moodily moving oceans in her dreaming wake.