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