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# Strawberry Moon
- URL: https://poetry101.love/strawberry-moon/
- Published: 2026-06-29T02:07:00.000Z
- Updated: 2026-06-29T02:15:43.000Z
- Description: by Mary Oliver
- Author: Melissa Anderson
- Tags: Mary Oliver, #Import 2026-11-04 19:11

My great-aunt Elizabeth Fortune  
stood under the honey locust trees,  
the white moon over her and a young man near.  
The blossoms fell down like white feathers,  
the grass was warm as a bed, and the young man  
full of promises, and the face of the moon  
a white fire.

Later,  
when the young man went away and came back with a  
bride,  
Elizabeth  
climbed into the attic.

Three women came in the night  
to wash the blood away,  
and burn the sheets,  
and take away the child.

Was it a boy or girl?  
No one remembers.

Elizabeth Fortune was not seen again  
for forty years.

Meals were sent up,  
laundry exchanged.

It was considered a solution  
more proper than shame  
showing itself to the village.

Finally, name by name, the downstairs died  
or moved away,  
and she had to come down,  
so she did.

At sixty-one, she took in boarders,

washed their dishes,  
made their beds,  
spoke whatever had to be spoken,  
and no more.

I asked my mother:  
what happened to the man? She answered:  
Nothing.  
They had three children.  
He worked in the boatyard.

I asked my mother: did they ever meet again?  
No, she said,  
though sometimes he would come  
to the house to visit.  
Elizabeth, of course, stayed upstairs.

Now the women are gathering  
in smoke-filled rooms,  
rough as politicians,  
scrappy as club fighters.  
And should anyone be surprised

if sometimes, when the white moon rises,  
women want to lash out  
with a cutting edge?

Oliver, Mary. [Twelve Moons](https://www.google.com/books/edition/Twelve%5FMoons/4atuswEACAAJ?hl=en&ref=poetry101.love). United States, Little, Brown, 1979.