Pilgrim of the night,
 
sing! the Full Strawberry Moon
 
bathes your way in light.

 
 
 

Waxing crescent moon,
 
by your light I plainly see
 
these white primroses.

 
 
 

Night of the new moon—
 
the pebbles in my pathway
 
turn into mountains!

 
 
 

Waning crescent moon,
 
my father never taught me
 
how to love the dark.

 
 
 

Waning gibbous moon,
 
guide the pilgrim on her way
 
to the spring river.

 
 
 

Waxing crescent moon—
 
maybe a way will open
 
for my restless feet.

 
 
 

Night of the new moon—
 
can anyone anywhere
 
perceive anything?

 
 
 

Night of the new moon—
 
“Tell me a ghost story, Dad,”
 
a little boy begs.

 
 
 

on the verge of spring
 
three nights of sacred dreaming
 
about Sister Moon

 
 
 

Waxing gibbous moon—
 
the scent of early blossoms
 
stains the chilly air.