my son and the moon ...

standing in the pre-dawn chill of my birthing day
bare feet wet with dew
beneath pleiades delicate shimmer
beneath the setting moon
I cradle in my arms a shining son
who has already risen to welcome the day
the light of his eyes glistening in the darkness 
as huge and beauty full
as the orb he wonders
it is my privilege to say 
'that is the moon'
smiling eyes open ever wider

and we stand there glowing
Rumi, the moon and I 
buffered by light winds 
that come down each morning from the valley
to kiss your body and your senses awake

with love 
with light 
with life