Full moons are supposed to be culminations
but to me they are transitions
tipping from waxing into waning.
Transitions are when I feel your (fingers) ghosts
skim up my spine
or maybe it’s just autumn air
but in the quiet hush as the full
moon rising clears crepe-paper clouds
I think of you
and hold my breath ‘til winter,
our own tipping point between
living apart and being home
Poem by Annie Jadin, speakingvoiceless.com.
This poem is part of the full moon party hosted tonight by Jeff Schwaner. Check his blog for other poems (and instructions for how to join the party!) or look for the #FullMoonSocial2014 hashtag on Twitter.