Blackbird, silent.
Owl, orange
moon-eyes
watching.
The trees, still
as stars.
Hidden squirrels
curl in branches,
waiting in the
cool touch
of night.
I, human,
feel animal
as I cross-leg
on rough dirt
and leaves,
the ground
colder than
where night
meets my cheek.
My bones echo
the bones buried
in Earth’s
dark embrace.
I left many
things,
you
the biggest,
to be here
tonight.
A screech warns
the shadow
of myself,
a blackbird song,
a glow to the East,
a lifting curve
of rose.
We all hold our breaths,
blackbird, owl,
squirrel and I.
She lifts higher,
until she is a
loving circle
of rose.
My hands
illuminated,
my shadows
fled,
I for a moment
am something other
than human.
This is inspired by the supermoon, 7 May. The May moon is sometimes called the Flower Moon.
Inky Cat's Poems 
Ah yes… Did the blackbird start singing again to the Rose Moon? (I’ve heard robins pretending to be nightingales, their cousins, of a dark evening.) Glad your shadow hid behind you, letting the Moon fragrance your fingers.
Yes, the blackbird sang. Or maybe it was a robin/nightingale or simply Bird.