Harvest Moon

Harvest Moon, I pray, you stay away

New and hidden and dark in suspension

For I measure my fertility

On your periodic attention
.

Again the bell rings, another full moon

Our bout chases autumn equinox

My full opponent gaslights just so

With backlighting when we shadowbox

.

The time is right for the new Harvest Moon

That signals my extension

Though I pray you, this m0nth, fail to rise

And spurn your monthly ascension

.
Estrus erupts expediently, explosively;
Cyclicly controlled coital capitulation, chaining charmed celestial
Lunacy, leading libido lovingly — lustfully —
Into intercourse — invasive interludes
Portending, perhaps, procreation;
Shared lunar sexuality suddenly spawning
Entanglement’s enamored embraces, expressing embryonic expectations.

.

For lunar months I’ve waited now

Barrenly, in angst and tension

Only to see your periodic resumption

Of wicked contraception

.
So dear Harvest Moon, don’t shine on me

I plead in begged contention

You can pause and dally, just this once

In your usual intervention

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

zeitgeber: noun, Physiology—a rhythmically occurring natural phenomenon which acts as a cue in the regulation of the body's circadian rhythms, including hormonal cycles.

In Celtic and Anglo-Saxon traditions, the full moon was a sign of fertility.

Arguably, according to contradicting studies, synchronization of women’s menstruation with the Moon has decreased but remains detectable when gravitational pull is strong.