#20 The Moon Hour

The Moon Hour

I never wondered
but might as well ask,
why was it called moonshine?
Was it made at night,
in the dark of the moon
or maybe by the moon’s shine?

Should we rename things
that happen at night,
give them a moon name?

The moon owls hunt by
a crescent moon,
their prey a whisper
on the ground.

Socks slide quietly
across the floor.
Someone rustles through
cabinets and drawers,
searching for a moon night snack.

A waxing moon,
half hidden by clouds,
looks down upon moonlove,
a head resting upon a shoulder
and hands intertwined.

Energized at the moon hour,
a sleepless cat
knocks things over,
sounding like a burglar.

A strawberry moon
calls me outside
and I slip into the dark.
Moon girl, I quietly murmur,
then put back my head and howl.
I name myself and look into black.
Moon Girl, I yell into the night.