Moon Speaks

t.m. thomson

In January I howl with wolves

from a black sky

rove among stars

sharp like sparks

from fireworks.

I glaze snow with a pearly

patina.

When earthworms emerge in spring

I soften like soil

and only those who seek me out

in woods will find violet

and trillium

draped by my beams

like frosted

robes.

As heat becomes queen

holding court on backs of frogs

on sleek crested heads of birds

I offer relief for strawberry

and sturgeon

as I shimmer in rain

flash with lightning

never pausing

for thunder.

Then comes autumn when I bless

wheat and corn and kindle

bucks to rush each other.

Beavers build by my light

weaving bracken

stacking twigs

smudging mud

piling mushroom and fern

for life under a cold sky

astir with my fervid

baying.