Tonight's the first Spring Moon, the Worm Moon or the Crow Moon or the Lenten Moon, depending on who you are. Those are lackluster names, I think, for such an occasion, though the full moon of March is not always a spring moon but may be the last full moon of winter. Two-thirds of the time, in fact. The crow deserves a moon, sure, but there is no Rabbit Moon nor Hare Moon. Did you hear about the race between the Rabbit and the Hare? I always make that mistake. Rabbit wins, of course, being more turtle-like than his cousin. I'll tell you about it sometime.
It seems to be a Full Hare Moon for me. Completely.
1.4 Hare Moon
ReplyDeleteIn eddies curled the color of May's helpless sun
So-shu washes with bergamot soap unpacked
from his thread-bare satchel.
The river's icy fingers
pinch his cheeks into a pair of apple blossoms.
Long ago he left home folded
in the butterfly's wingflap. His heart a stranger
to the luxury of familiar.
All day So-shu pounds the cassia tree
in service to the Genii --
all night he dreams
under the gallop of Chandra's ten white antelopes.
written November 2008 part of series called Upon Hearing the Poet has Nothing to do with the Mystical.
So-shu dreams. There is that.
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