Who affects the lady more than the moon

She came from the earth
the ethereal zone
and she so controls
all living things
that have grown
incarnation she governs
excarnation, yes too
our mother is powerful
and boy can she woo
me, I’m a child
bathed in her silver light
lost in sweet romance
that comes with the night

She controls water
the ebb and the flow
the tides are beholden
to her as we know
we ourselves have much
water within, and around
and clearly her power
is bound to astound
close to the willow
my lady in red
as dark as the berry
from the warmth of her bed
stares up at the moon
and absorbs, her power
she dreams of a land
far away for an hour
where fairies and elves
do dance on the green
and play with black cats
that no one has seen

completely invisible, to the
naked eye
but seen by the fairies
whose force field’s are high
where bees radiate
and where wild hedgehogs too
fired with emotion
and wetted by dew
with consciousness rising
many appear
to be restless and wakeful
and softened by fear
the moon’s streaming
energy pulling away
from the ethereal zone
where the fairies do play

lumaria she has a silver repose
cylindrical circles
of passionate prose
and the primrose of evening
now openly smile
when the moon looks their way
with her great cosmic guile
the moon attracts water
on earth at the side
that is turned towards her
so each flow of the tide
at waxing and waning
the rising and falling
are drawn to create
a sort of a calling

I know of a lady
who wears deep red dresses
this mortal that’s me
kind of obsesses
she glides through the
forest
and this soul confesses
with her beautiful eyes
how she impresses

savagely sensing
and,recompensing
those where the pull
gravitationally
took in and created
as if it were fated
scintilla’s of stardust
that showed off each tree

the plant worlds connected
and most times inspected
its phases corrected
its cycles elected
sowing the waxing moon
planting the waning moon
harvesting wait till
the full moon
arrives
my lady’s sweet tresses
and Goth style, dresses
how she impresses
her beauty survives

such complex direction
and an honest inspection
of ephemerides
tell astrologers then
through which planet
the moon passes
and lifting their glasses
and the delineation
of what, how, and when

my lady is stressed
and gets tired from her labours
a wistful desire
to pronounce to her neighbours
the moon draws such passion
and though sometimes ashen
she’ll work on regardless
of fear foe or fashion