I was born on the thirteenth day of the Hunger Moon. Brought into the house of a spirited woman and a disappearing father. I learned early to concoct a breakfast of cold cereal and last week's milk stirred into an empty margarine tub with whatever utensil I could find. I learned that secrets could emerge on the surface of water or be folded into tiny squares and fed to the flame of a flickering candle. I learned to trust the Earth and the Skies. The spirit within me led me to the places that held the revisions of my life. I died a withered old woman in a land become strange the day a black bird looked me in the eye and called my name. Reprinted with permission from the month of April!!!! Copyright © 2008 by Charlene Neely

THE BLUSHING MOON by Charlene Neely

What has he seen, this blushing moon that embarrasses him so? the cicadas hugging torsos of elm while trilling their love songs, the green chevy and blue ford kissing in the intersection, douglas firs leaning on wires until the sparks start flying, two lovers on a hidden park bench remembering days gone by. Is this what turns his face so red, this luscious blushing moon? Reprinted with permission Copyright © 2007 by Charlene Neely

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