July Moon in which I was born, I was
Reborn without your scorn! Too long begone
Has soul been from seas of moons! July, pause
A bit, recreate my fit with new dawn

Of August betwixt, where magic resides.
No more lies of mountain-valley upsets,
Nor more ties to substance which ever brides
Its heart to nothingness. No more regrets.

Silly moon, your exterior shell is
Crabbed by Cancer’s latitudes. July? Soon
You will be extinct, unmoored. There’s no quiz
To rhyme your right from wrong – precocious Moon…

Past moon, only hours to your last breath,
Surprisingly, I am not in your death…

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 7/31/06