Moon-Praising in Rockhollow

Title: Moon-Praising in Rockhollow  
Five of Thirty  
Unique Words: One Hundred and Thirty Seven  

#NaPoWriMo2019  
 
 
She is a scar upon the sky, a vulnerable healed wound, a tested piece of skin, a warrior's mark  
- pristine in whiteness, curled as the eyelash of a babe.  
 
A Tawny female's "kewick" cuts through the silence  
awaiting a "hoohoo" that never comes.  
 
I bow my head and thank the New Moon:  
a pure, wise guardian  
of my body's work - asterisk upon my diary,  
justification of ravenous quietness.  
 
Mainly, this New Moon is the reason why I sit fixated  
as a bidder watching pole worker,  
as a treasured trinket in your home.  
 
I sup decaffeinated coffee,  
as adulthood dictates this time of night,  
listen  
to the rushing feet of a wildcat  
who normally uses this space as a bed  
realising quickly he needs to find somewhere else  
instead.  
 
Tomorrow when this glassy sky sliver is shaded by the gold of unapologetic brightness  
I will find echoes of her -  
Hidden in the blossom of amelanchier.  
I will find echoes of her -  
in thin lines across my stomach and buttocks, observed and admired whilst dressing.  
I will find echoes of her -  
in the blemished white of bean flowers and  
I will award her my thought and time with great thanks.  
 
I know that with her guidance I've predicted another season;
in this place I've found enough sanctuary  
to see it through.