MOONS OVER OAXACA

The pecking of the beak
The flapping of the magnificent span
Outlined on the fiery globe low in the horizon
Air of spring surrounds
Bright hued serapes holding in parched heat
Pyramid reaching Sun
Glued to lashes that dare not flicker
The drums of the Aztec moon pound
To cool tempers as they flail above the plateau of Oaxaca  
Ancient orange moon hovers long after
The feared sacrificial songs
Dawn of survival endured many moons
Those who witness history
Those who feel it retold
A thousand years hence
Never forget the brilliant paints and woven pigments
That cannot absolve sins of the Aztecs
The frightening beauty of the Moons over Oaxaca