The harvest moon is up
and my stomach does not growl.
There is churning in the earth,
the reaper is due-
But none look when he arrives.
There is the usual warm glow
where a sinister mood once brewed.
Alas, there is no warmth or desire-
I am no longer hungry.
The moon goes on along
shining orange and strong...
at least the grass is getting greener.
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