I step into September -- Black Butterfly Moon --
like a diver steps with quickening heart to the edge,
springs into the sweet pulse of air,
reaches and arcs into the last hovering
moment before descent.  So many moments

gather into the soft, black wings
of September, gleanings of moons gone by --
Leaf Moon, Mulberry Moon, Yellow
Flower Moon -- bundled like sheaves of light
ripened into this one taking-off moment,

gathering strength to strength like prayers unfolding
between heaven and earth.  It is not yet the hard
lean Moon When the Wolves Run Together, not yet
the Ice Moon.  It is the Black Butterfly
Moon of September, and all things are possible.

- Druzelle Cederquist
World Order Magazine 2003, Vol.35, No.1

The moon names in the poem refer to Native American names
of the months of the year. The names, in order starting with
Black Butterfly Moon, come from the Cherokee, Kiowa, Creek,
Osage, Cheyenne, and Tewa Pueblo Indian tribes.

Poetry Notes for this poem at Luminous Realities blog here and here.