August Moon
Sleeping through a sturgeon moon:
Plump with caviar roe, green like corn,
swollen with grain, full and red burning,
squinting through forest fire,
pigeon-holed by sky and telescope,
barked at by howler monkeys at dusk,
woken by screecher owls at dawn,
navigated on by explorers,
wished upon by natives,
wondered at by archaic sapiens.
Your pull is strong, I’m sleeping through
Wait for the wane, anticipate the new.
Copyright © Stephen Barry | Year Posted 2015
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