July is alternatively known as the Buck Moon by indigenous people throughout much of North America. This is because male deer, bucks, tend to have their antlers (which fall off in late winter) begin to show prominently at this time of year as they regrow in preparation for the fall rut.
It has also been referred to as the Hay Moon, an Anglo-Saxon reference to the dry time when hay was due to be cut for livestock. A torturous ordeal in and of itself, cutting hay.
This year’s full moon is expected to have a red-orange tint in North America due to the smoke from a multitude of wildfires currently burning. Let us all pray to our respective gods to protect lives and homes during this difficult time. So mote it be.
This moon is traditionally also referred to as the Flower Moon. However I prefer Blossom Moon, as a number of North American indigenous tribes referred to it. Blossom Moon, to me, better encompasses all things that explode with life in the spring. Flowers are beautiful, I keep my share, but they are not everything.
I do apologize – I am a day late with my full moon ode this month, but alas life does happen at times, and I have not been in a good frame of mind to write until today. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy.
gripped around warmth and song, caressing sharp teethand kissing bloodied lips. no screaming, just silence set against the crashing waves on an unexplored shoreline, breaking and sliding back with contentment. reminders embodied in stainless steel and gemwork tossing and turning on the thought of filling your hands and emptying herself. a grasp that never slips, […]
I am a gallery, long floored and wide brimmed no footsteps from tourists have padded these halls, signs suggesting an escape from my reality are nonexistent.these white-washed walls stand at attentionfor my eyes only; examining the lives I lived many moons before. The doors […]
and you’ve never tasted the Universe until you count the stars that have settled in your irises, and match them to hers; there is harmony within their fingers, tracing black and white down their temples ancient symbols of becoming one whole and you would never have guessed, never seen it coming, if she had told […]
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