Grandmother moon

Today is the first full moon of the month. On New Year’s Eve we will see a second, known as a “blue moon”.  This is rather unusual, which is why the phrase “once in a blue moon” means “rarely”.

I’ve been drawn to the moon ever since my dad tried to explain to me what it was, and why it changed its faces. Having been born with strange eyes, I have no depth perception and see the moon as flat. The rare exception is during a total eclipse, when the moon’s unusual coloring makes it appear to me like a shaded ball does on a printed page. That’s when I get the visceral sense that a large ball of rock is wandering around our planet.

I wrote this ten years ago, probably on another full moon night —

Rising full moonI am grandmother moon —
hidden self only
loved by the light of
my Sister’s fiery passions;
my rocks and craters,
my icy hills,
sometimes revealed in this
yielding to distance, alignment and shine.

First cold
then hot; then cold again;
thin-aired and dry,
an old woman walking great sleepless circles,
threading shadow through
the needle’s eye of day.

I stir the great waters of cousin Earth
into taffy-tides
and pull them halfway round her skin;
I’ve cradled her ships and her men,
shared the sum of my life
with the mystery of theirs;

December's first full moonand when their day is full
I sigh them off my lap
and tiptoe into the windless night.
Sleep safely, my children —
I am grandmother moon


2 thoughts on “Grandmother moon

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