I survived the summer,
and now in the dark morning
under the full moon,
in the crisp air
my soul becomes alive once again.

The sound of the crisp leaves and the smell and the dank air
Last night I heard two different owls spaced apart
two songs of hooting, their velvet over our sleep.

The moon may hold an angry beast with fangs
but see it soften
in the milky white glow of peace.

Draw down the Moon.
Draw her blessed kisses into your pores.
Draw down her secrets, her grace and her love and in turn,
allow yourself to glow with her presence.

The angry beast dissolves
and the quiet crane speaks loudly in its silence.

Praise be for this blessed time,
for the cooling down,
for the mystery to return in early morning hours
as the sun slowly creeps, spreading fingers to reach the darkness,
the darkness which I hold so dear
for it is there I am most open and whole.