March Moons



Last night a Moonflower blossomed.

Hovering over bare branches

she rose quickly

into a pale blue sky.

Guilded in gold at twilight,

Moon turned iridescent,

pearl white by nightfall.


Will a month of double moons

bring high desert’s thirsty

trees, scrub, and grasses,

first spring flowers,

water they desperately need?


Do both hold Promise?

Or does one

cancel out the other?


Is the Hare hiding

behind his Grandmother

beckoning to the unwary?*


Or will winter buried toads

emerge to bask under

fragrant spring rain?


Beware an offer

of too much light

without shadows,

or reversals in Time.


Endings and beginnings

are always ambiguous.


March Light lengthens out our days.

Winter’s soft shadows fade

into cerulean blue –

a blazing white star

brings warmth, but all too soon

stares red earth down

cracking parched ground.


We can lose sight of ourselves

even as sprouting seeds unfurl,

reaching towards god’s eye.

At high noon no shadow is cast –

a dangerous time for

those who refuse to reflect

upon the necessity

of winter darkness.


This time of introspection

precedes a fierce

“Coming of the Light.”


At the equinox two halves

are wed as One.

A cautionary note

for those who would

cast away dark selves

to take wild flight

seduced by the fire

of the rising sun/son.


  • In many Native Indigenous traditions (as well as those from other countries) the Hare lives with his Grandmother the Moon. Hare is a trickster figure who is capable of reversals. He can turns the world upside down in seconds.

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