Flower Moon

Blackbird, silent.
Owl, orange

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
the biggest,
to be here

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
my shadows

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.