Equinox

All night she tracks the moon
through the mulch of sky,
watches it wick from feet to pelvis.

She lies as still as silver, offers
the banks of her body
for its consumption.

Beyond the window, night creatures
shuffle in the cut grass.

Soon it will be harvest.
High water. Howling leaves.

(from my collection 'To Know Bedrock', published by Pindrop Press)