I Spoke to the Strawberry Moon

As she enchanted the sky — a poem

They baptized her the Strawberry Moon —

named by ancient North American tribes.

They knew with this moon

came the time of berry harvest.

She was the last of the spring before the beginning of the summer;

christened Rose Moon in Europe or Hot Moon in warm places.

I wanted her to be called Magic Moon

because she exuded an ethereal quality,

that could only be described as supernatural.

Her aura was mystic and mysterious.

The clouds enshrouded her with shades of the esoteric,

of the phenomenal,

of the scarcely known and hardly understood.

But she told me last evening as I hung clothes on the line —

drawing on her energy,

reveling in her power

that there was no need for a name.

She was here for the fun,

wanting to be

a mystery to most,

known intimately only by some.

If you enjoyed my attempt at poetry, then perhaps you will like these:-