daughters of the moon, daughters of the hills, daughters of our grandmother’s grandmother’s grandmothers, it is too long we have dwelled in the house of men fearing our power would scare them, letting our power scare us. daughters of the earth, love would never ask you to be less than you are, and if that…
wait it’s beautiful she said leaning her taller by the day self against my shoulder hand on my arm as the moon pulled free of the clouds haloing the sky and us where we stood waiting Radiant
for now the trees hang full sweet with summer. tomorrow or tomorrow she leaves as daughters must and with her summer too. today we make plum jam, filling the house warm sticky with the knowing of blossoms. storing summer sweet for when autumn quiet blows cool.