Strawberry Moon

by Jordan Sanderson

He went outside to glance 

At the Strawberry Moon, a 

Seasonal reverence, but a veil 

Of clouds denied his piety, 

And a few raindrops beaded 

On his glasses. The nightjars 

Were already churring, stirring 

Up the storm-starved owls. 

A car passed, and he thought 

Of the only person he didn’t want 

To change, to turn on to this or that 

Anodyne, to save. For a long time, 

He couldn’t tell love from pity, so 

The night he came upon a heap 

Of feathers and claws on a dirt road 

He thought he could heal himself 

By chasing the owl away from its prey. 

He nudged the limp wings 

Until they lifted the body 

From the ground, but the owl swooped 

Again and carried the bird deeper 

Into the woods, where he was afraid to walk. 

Through pines, he watched the spot 

Where the moon should have been.