A perigee
Is rising
She clears the trees
In gold abandon
And does a ribbon dance
With wisps of cloud
That linger on the breeze
A mother moon tonight
She calls down
To her moon babies
Below
A summoning
From field
And thicket
Like pilgrims on a trek
With brilliant lanterns swinging
They gather from afar
To celebrate the solstice
An evening fete
Of glitz and glimmer
On the lawn
They revel
In the celebration
While I look on
In envy of the grand event
Wishing I could spark
And shine beneath the
Fullness of the summer sky
They call me from my doorway
And beckon me to try
So I light
A little votive
And hold my offering high
And dance amid a garden
Of moonlit fireflies




Sara Mathews     June 2016