Deep Dark Moonday

Happy Moonday!

'Why, what's Moonday?' you ask.  I'll tell you. This marks week six of the Moonday Experiment, designed to help me, and whoever else wants to play, to take a little time out on Mondays to celebrate the moon by doing something creative and/or wild despite the dominant culture's referendum on Monday wildness, in the hope that it will spark some of our own wildness and unbridled creativity.

Personal update on the experiment:  I've been having a bit more fun playing around.  Last Moonday I collaged a card in my journal.  I decided that it was a note from my fairy godmother telling me that she had my back, used lots of glitter, and the next day I happened to find the perfect dress for an upcoming performance-- bippity boppity boo.

If you've been reading this blog for a little while, you might have noticed that I've been sort of play-challenged recently, and have had to go to some lengths to bring out my silly side.  Celebrating Moonday every week seems to be helping me to get over myself loosen up.

Today's waning crescent moon is going into the darkest phase of a dark month.  I shouldn't be surprised that I'm feeling internal, desiring to hole up.  I long for a snowy cabin and silence.  Spring is just around the corner, and for a gardener that means work.  I have a lot more deep dreaming to do between now and then. 

I've been thrilled by the stories, poems, and links to artwork in the comments each Moonday.  They are fantastic.  Worth checking out.  Skip over my old Moonday posts and go right to the comments.  I hope some of you will grace me with your Moonday inspirations again or for the first time this week. If you would share a poem, or links to artwork, stories, songs, dances... any art--in the broadest sense of the word-- that you want to share or that inspires you.  No theme, just something that jazzes you up, that makes you want to dance, or  bust out your crayons, a poem or scribble you made in a burst of exuberance or  painstakingly crafted (though I am very pro burst of exuberance creating--- internal critics can go stand in the corner.)

Here's mine-- my internal critic wants to warn you that it may not be very good at all, especially as I'm making it up on the spot.  Now I'm putting duct tape over her mouth.  Ah.  Better.

Slippery green snake
undulating in a bowl of twigs and dead leaves,
your back glistens with honey,
your forked tongue flicking in and out
for the delight of the feeling.

You ate the eggs last summer.
The birds have long since flown.
You are alone and sated
in a nest under a broken hive
honey-coated against the cold.