the harvest moon brought us together.
for a moment, three women intersected under the mango tree. grateful for a natural pause; our individual journeys of the day slowed and sat cross legged to face one other.
that round white table centered among us- remniscent of this moon- held us in place to share together.
in small cups came a home made offering: watermelon agua fresca. the sweetness cut with a little lime, enhanced with bits of refreshing mint.
this casual invitation to taste joined us in sacred communion.
the soft baja breeze gave movement to the thick hot air as we sipped and
opened up about tropical fruit, about sleepless nights, about our wombs.
is a womb only gorgeous and valuable when round and full?
can we not harvest our unique creations in so many other forms?
our small individual worlds met in curious admiration for ourselves and each other, forming a bond under the invisible light of that October moon.