The yielding moon

Moon 9 - The darkness begins in light

The return journey back to the darkness has already begun. I can feel its force beneath the glare of these hot, bright days. How do I prepare for the darkness while my world here is still all brightness? By yielding, perhaps.

I lie back in the water, it takes me whole. The cool slips beneath my shoulder blades and the small of my back, lifting each bone to the surface. The scent is of the world opening itself, molecule by molecule as the heat loosens all the hidden notes of mineral, brine, iodine, sulfur, sweat and the sweetness of grass. My ears fill with a soft, wavering hush and the sky becomes a blue skin above me. Water presses at my calves, seeps between my thighs, gathers in the hollow of my throat, and on my upper lip where I get the slight taste of salt and stone. I float, suspended in that liquid interval where summer is already loosening its grip and something older, darker, wiser waits below.