September Moon

byJoy Harjo
Last night she called and told me
about the moon over San Francisco Bay.
Here in Albuquerque it is mirrored
in a cool, dark Sandia sky.
The reflection is within all of us.
Orange, and almost the harvest
moon. Wind and the chill of the colder
months coming on. The children and I
watched it, crossing San Pedro and Central
coming up from the state fair.
Wind blowing my hair was caught
in my face. I was fearful of traffic,
trying to keep my steps and the moon was east,
out of any skin that was covering her. Naked.
Such beauty.
We are alive. The woman of the moon looking
at us, and we looking at her, acknowledging
each other.

© 1983 Joy Harjo. She Had Some Horses, Thunder's Mouth Press.

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