Nimbus

The moon wore a halo last night, a brilliant nimbus

circling her, an icebow, some scientific phenomenon

explained by ice crystals and cirrostratus clouds

“high in the upper troposphere” where weather

manifests itself from six miles away,

weather lore’s empirical forecasting

of rain to come, spring’s rain to wash away the snow,

or perhaps ‘tis Cerridwen’s luminous atmosphere

about her head, this lunar deity

of Celtic yore drawing my attention to the dark

sky above me, a map of stars circling the earth,

and this haloed moon, bright, circled itself

in light reflected, refracted, deified

by ancient people looking up, as I am now,

watching for her, for spring rain to wash away

my winter, seeking her wisdom and inspiration,

this keeper of the cauldron of knowledge,

longing to taste her potion’s first three drops,

to know myself, intuitive, know my place here,

small and looking up, afraid, a haloed moon,

a brilliant nimbus circling, Cerridwen’s luminous atmosphere,

seeking the courage and strength of a clear sky

and a circled moon, an icebow, protected in my own wilderness,

safely cradled, safely carried through my fears.