I'm posting this week's poem a couple of days early because tonight (Thursday) is the November full moon. This is the Hunter's Moon, also known as the Sanguine (Blood red) Moon, the Beaver Moon, or the Frost Moon. Look for this full moon to rise shortly after sunset---the extended period of light created by this early rising is one aspect of the name--it's easier to hunt (or finish the harvest) with the extra bit of light.
In the midst of all the talk about political and economic change and endings and new directions, a few minutes with the moon reminds me that we are part of much bigger, and steadier cycles. When I look up into the night sky and feel the ground solid beneath my feet, I know that I am supported and carried by forces far greater than any we can put in motion. It's a moment to revel in what my friend J. and I call "puny glory."
(The image is a painting of mine, "New Mexico Moon").
Song for Ishtar
The moon is a sow
and grunts in my throat
Her great shining shines
through me
so the mud of my hollows
gleams
and breaks in silver bubbles
She is a sow
and I a pig and a poet
When she opens her white
lips to devour me I bit back
and laughter rocks the moon
In the black of desire
we rock and grunt, grunt and
shine
---Denise Levertov from O Taste and See (NY: New Directions, 1964)
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