April Full Moon Sonnet
Sing, Lady Moon, of awakening trees,
of blossoms on maple and leaves on oak.
Bluebird does errands, while freshening breeze
bring woodpecker’s knocking, and bullfrog’s croak.
Skunk cabbage rises beside every stream;
Midge and mosquito buzz above each pool,
and common blue violets arise from dream.
Chipmunk leaps about like a holy fool;
Goldfinch and cardinal their plumage display.
Sing, Lady Moon, of white blooms on cherry,
morning chilliness, and tracks in the clay
where turkey and coyote made merry.
Sing of greenness creeping from twig and bud,
new creation bubbling from black mud.
I’m going to try to write a second sonnet for the Eclipse, but I may not get to it. In the meantime, here’s an old piece I wrote in May 2003 for a spring Lunar eclipse.
Hymn for a Spring Lunar Eclipse
Lady Diana now shows her full face
while late apple blossoms fall from their trees,
and though cloud obscures her with dingy lace,
we watch jealous Gaia by slow degrees
occult her pristine rival from the Sun.
Often his golden gaze is fixed on her
and dark her moods when his eye turns away.
Earth gets her daily dose, and so do men,
but Moon’s monthly smiles he does prefer;
and so Gaia puts herself in their way,
aggrieved wife catching two star-crossed lovers.
The wary clouds flee this meeting of gods,
which they hoped to hide with storm and showers.
These are the paths the solar system plods
step by step in little eternities,
spinning in cycles round the burning hearth,
lifeless rock playing at being divine.
Mortal eyes here see great divinities
dancing through their lives of immortal mirth:
Even in this moment, how bright they shine!
A soft breeze ruffles the apple flower
as jealous Gaia smothers her rival
while the veiling cloud holds back and cowers.
Divine scheming and long years of travel
brings Earth to triumph over pale Selune
for Sun’s affection. But Time, the old clown,
makes them heed the dance; speeds them on their way.
They step to secret music — Sun and moon
keep to the tread that wears Earth’s anger down;
they’ll pick up their affair some other day.