Lunatic

CYCLE III: WATER

My how the harvest orb have risen full,
It fills Her nightly vision with its curve.
Her seas are welling at its whelming pull,
My how it wavely brings Her swelling verve.
The pulsing at Her core its movement drives,
My how She gives Her risen tides to it,
And spells its rhythms in Her maidens’ lives,
Whose zodiacly worship pursues it.    
But as with flow, when flow shouts out its peak,
The ebb must find its slow and sure retract.
And from its full, the orb reductions seek.
For after tides are spent, comes sure react.
But soon again will orb’s curve bring Her well,
And once more feel Her rising tides’ impel.

April 21 - NaPoWriMo 2017