Last night, moon



(mouth wide open)

overtook the land;

grass, pines, manzanita

voracious appetite.

Swallowed everything.


I stood, wide-eyed, watching

the event.

So much fierceness.

The wild.

I wondered if I would be



along with the landscape.

But moon passed me by.

Breath, soft,

like steam in winter.


I couldn't move

from my place on the naked floor.

Didn't want to breathe,

moon's breath so perfect.

I, like a shadow.


When I think of it,

the sound of thunder

fills the hills below the mountains

where my little house sits

obedient to a fault.


But I know the sky

then held nothing

so raucous. Only a silk hum;

slow movement of stars,

and moon, hunting.



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Copyright 2007 Susan M. Botich