I always take a window seat.

I perch lightly

and raise my eyes,

hungry for that first glimpse.

These days the staff busies themselves pulling down shades all in a fever, as if even

a glimpse of the fully present

moon

would turn us all quite into wolves.

We’re sheltered.

Given a set of rules to follow.

Just in case, you know?

I wait and watch and don’t begrudge

the hours of sleep missed. She nourishes …

as women do.

And ohhhh the light when she’s ready!

On an early trip at

20 or so and, solo as usual, I watched the sky

begin to spill her soul

in crimson streaks racing

like wildfire,

carving her name into the universe

moment by moment,

and far too consumed to notice me

or my gaping jaw

as she took the night full force and

just this side

of moonrise.

And I ask you,

is there magic in your soul?

c. Pam Goode