Hunter’s Moon.The light, betrayed.Snake in the grass.The wolf that strayed.Scorpion’s tail,Swirling round.Churning, sweeping,Unearthing ground.Digging, dredging,Stirring things up.Rather than sipping,Shatters the cup.I see it, I feel it,The barb in my breast.I hear then from spirit,The words – “Let it rest.”It calls me, my healing,A salve like the sea.Washes over and whispersA calm, “Let it be.”