Selene

My first successful moonshot, so to speak...

Selene

Selene, you shine on me and mine,
Your cold light borrowed from the sun.
Sometimes you eclipse that great ball,
Dark dragon bringing early night,
Then the certain slide back to light.

Ripped untimely from Earth’s womb
But too small to slip loose from her strings,
Forever thrown together and apart,
Pirouetting face to face
In a spin over the gravity at your heart.

No warmth, yet you dragged life from the deep,
Ancient strandlines, first faltering steps
Up the shore to the high and dry.
Ironic effect of you, desiccate and cold,
On the waters of my home, my cells, my brain.

Strange attractor of pale, lonely types,
And the mad and dangerous to know,
Howling, their changeling other selves
In monthly worship of your full, round face.
Hidden forces, subtle fingers tweaking neural chords.

Blue moon, stain of far-off forest fires,
Red moon, each revolution’s bloody period,
Harvest moon, gratitude for summer’s bounty,
Silver moon, shining echo of day’s warmth, Selene,
On winter nights, my bright moon, serene.


Scot Mathieson
February 2010