We feel it's tautness, as it's pulling us
Into the fertile loam fields, of reproduction,
A year at a time, until high tide finally arrives.
And at birthing time, we can sense it's shadowy silver fingers
Prodding us, wanting us to deliver to it's schedules only;
Like it orders the oceans to and fro, with it's nearness
And animals sense it's fog of breath behind them, urging them on to madness.
At certain times of the month, and it is such an on-again off-again sort,
Either completely out there, or hidden like a thread of light, barely showing
Through hidden doorways tiny cracks; unwilling to reveal a centimeter more
All the while influencing a million more invisible things we would never associate
At all; and makes one almost willing to believe in astrology's claims.
And once I saw the moon beside your face, and could no longer resist
It's pulling; and when it told me to go into your arms, I obeyed-
Because I knew it was more ancient and more powerful, than any of our sawdust brains.
I truly love this poem and the pull it has on me...the glow of the moon has always seemed to me a solid thing....the way it touches the earth is like a man touching a woman...light but there ...really there...the way you called it taughtness....really tautness...a touch where something is learned or known...sort of like finding a poem that says things you feel you have always known but never said....and would have never said them this way...I could have just said I learned something....right?
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