protest

by mickharris

it’s not a new feeling –

drawing down the moon

is something the female

(born/unborn/becoming)

body does

in our sleep

practically

but it’s been awhile for me.

i’m used to the lighting tingle

of possibility.

that i remember from

others.

this, though.

lissome stream trickles

over smooth pebbles

mountain-clear and cold.

inevitable,

building

a want with no expectation.

a hope that doesn’t burn

or consume.

a steady growing moon

(harvest/golden/heavy)

pulling night into

its glow.

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