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V O I C E SP O E T R Y

Buried in blankets of charcoal darkness,a lit face rests. Sunken, pale skinned. Marked bythirsty, barren seas. Wolf moon.Descending 300,000 miles below,starved, worshippers of the night onpadded fours,pray to the great frigid light,ignited by rejuvenation ofthe mighty planet’s orbit. Snow moon. Abandoned paw printsof the devoteesvanish.The mighty Algonquin familiesseek refuge from a frozen plague inroasting, smoke-clogged wigwams. Worm moon. Iced crystals thaw,then fadeand dismantle.Wriggling creatures,knighted by the great wood shift and sift dense, oxygen-hungry soil. Pink moon. Beneath the squirming toes andmoist, ripe earth between,infant stemsjet up towards theilluminated orb.Flower moon. Immature roots enteradolescence and finally bloom intomaturity withwarm-colored budsStrawberry moon. Burning, thick vapordiffuses across long rows ofcultivated soil and youngnative children gallop

to the crimson, juicyfruits.Buck moon.Cloaked behind the greendeciduous camouflage,a lone deerspies on the crowd whilestabs of pain emerge in bearded, ivory racks atop itswise crown. Sturgeon moon. Birchbark kenus slither, causingwrinkles in stagnant water. Sun-dried natives cast far-stretchingknit nets intothe mansion of aqua life. Harvest moon. Foreigners of the old world laborlate into the climax of thetotal face’s trek above.The snow-skinned laborersshuck and hack the Algonquin three sisters in chilled fields. Hunter’s moon. Arrows pierce dull airAnd whisk into the sideof a fox. Strong warriors praise their gods with thanksfor a new gift. Beaver moon. Frost creeps into the atmosphere. Nature’s dam builder observesthe cold,gathers bark for the coming winter. Cold moon. The great light of the night rules darkness. Dutiful, sundown submits toNight king’s lengthening lifetime. Behold -the moon.

Twelve Algonquin MoonsJustin McGuirl

“Nightfall” by Hannah Sumner