Children of Midsummer
The moon hangs low
In the southern sky
Night so humid that
It’s hard to breathe
Bare feet in grass as
We move into the-
Deepest woods
Spines twisting;
Bones breaking;
Hearts stopping;
As things rearrange
Inside of us; This is
Who we are meant
To be; always have
Howling, wild children
Untamed and free
Belonging to the forest
Belonging to the moon
And the hottest nights
Of midsummer