Strawberry Moon, how ripe you are
Cradled in your patch of stars
With soft tendrils of moonlit vines
Reaching out to make you shine
While we enjoy you from afar
Ancient being. Superstar.
Our life is your repertoire
Oh, symbol of the great divine,
Strawberry Moon
May the time refuse to mar
Your precious face, or leave a scar
Of your delicate design
For nothing could ever outshine
That bright avatar,
Strawberry Moon
This poem is sponsored by:
Discover more from Erynn Crittenden
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

