Meditation on the Waxing Crescent Moon

Image by Rachel B. Baxter

The waxing phase has begun —
the sliver of light, the crescent moon
gleaming faintly through the darkness.

I feel connected to the air and all it touches,
each thin blade of grass
whispering as the wind bends it.

I remember life before the smartphone
and how my eyes relished
that which was visually quiet.

My eyes begin to open,
my mind begins to learn,
my heart becomes warmer with each passing day.

Born under the waxing crescent,
this phase calls my name —
it doesn’t urge me to take action,
it only reminds me to be me,
acknowledging the extraordinary power in that.

Read more poetry about moon phases.

about me.