“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label harvest moon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label harvest moon. Show all posts
Saturday, September 17, 2016
Bountiful ball
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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