the moon is always there—
a permanence, Mother Earth’s
emphatic song, waxing and waning,

appearing and disappearing,
belting out in full glory.
La Luna, La Perla, her voice

wobbly as of late, but tonight
this June Strawberry Moon
will dip lower to us,

will pull heart strings
to nearly touch and
bellow out an ode.

and I will dance slow,
in her whole notes
and trebles and clefs