July Moons
By Patricia Gray

I was born   in lightning storm
thunder   cracking  sky roof
spirit eye opening   the delivery
shaft   folk names of   full moons
humming   branch breaking, falling
street blocked   Buck Moon hiding
off in the reaches   young antlers
pushing-through, itchy, eager
I was born under   day-before
Hay Moon   alfalfa cut, baled
stashed from storm   I was born
under   the Mead Moon medieval
old pubs peppering   flat beer
to sell it   I was born   a bumpkin
in DC’s   Mid-Summer Moon’s
mischief   a sliver left in me
slim switch of lightning   and this
deep clap of   Thunder Moon.