"bathing in moonbeams..."

heather says
that
there will be a
supermoon
tonight

it will venture
as close to
the earth as
a moon can come
without
falling into the sea

I will be there
watching her
inch her way
towards my
pulsing,
waiting,
hoping,
child
heart.

I've always hoped that
somehow
the
moon was mine
to curl against.

She is softer than
the sun...

She likes the dark as much as
I do and
never complains that
in her light
the world is not quite as
exuberant and filled
with laughter.

She is content with her
place behind
the stars
where she
snuggles in a quilt of
silence and
infinity

She likes
that she can
hide sometimes, disappear
behind a cloud,
a meteor shower,
permission to live in phases,
showing only a piece,
just a sliver of,
what
she is....
at any given moment...

she is at peace with
touching gently
coming and going without
leaving tan lines, or
the lingering imprint of
her presence...

it is enough for her
to fill the quiet with a
gentle glow that
sugggests a
world of
magic and
whimsy,
wonder
and mystery,
reflection
and
transendence.

"there will be a super moon
tonight,"
heather says,

and something in my
heart catches
like a child discovering that
they'd forgotten snowflakes,
and candy canes, 
December and
caroling,

only just
remembering that tomorrow is
Christmas morning and
that there will be
treasures
under trees and
stockings filled with
promise.

but I am sooo
ready for this

I am near the sea
where She will
spill herself
in large
pools of endless
light

I will take a moon bath tonight
I will drop all my
coverings,
leave white linen
and old lace on the sand...

I will be an old woman
with long white
hair
and I will slip
between the
ebb and
flow
of her cool sheets

I will dance under a
shower of
moonbeams

I will run into the phosperous
she casts over
the sea's
surface

I will
float in
the soft dusting of
her lavender
breath upon
a midnight sea

her light will
paint a
stippling of
gold and silver along my
skin...

I will be awash in
her beauty
like she is
in the Sun's

"There will be a super moon
tonight," Heather says.

"Won't you come dance with
me in her
soft light like
sister-
faeries
under
their mother's wing,"
I call back in
a conspiratoral
whisper
through the
ether of
our
common
song...

the
harmonic
convergence of
self-acceptance
beneath
moonbeams of
Love....

please...