The Heavy-Hipped Moon and The River Made of Glass

last night a golden, low slung
heavy-hipped moon peeked
through naked branches,
peeked at me and winked.
She had a secret
“it comes,” she whispered
through the leaves.

the river snaked under her golden glow
long, dry grass chattered back:
“it comes”
the grass held no secrets,
but the river,
ah the glass river
hid a cipher beneath
the moon’s perfect reflection.

stars too shy to shine
not a bird to whistle
before September’s heavy-hipped moon
and her sister the glass river
and the silent secret song
they share.

cenobyte is a writer, editor, blogger, and super genius from Saskatchewan, Canada.


i make squee noises when you tell me stuff.

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