Harvest Moon

In midnight’s dampening chill,
hawkweed and lupine straighten,
fooled into believing there
is warmth to be found overhead.

On a night this brightly lit,
one can almost hear berries ripen
as September’s abundance
prepares to fuel October’s migration.

Just as confused as me,
both of us awakened by the glow,
I listen to an early bird
heralding dawn’s spurious arrival.

Like some reveling monk
drunk on summer’s extravagance,
flushed and exuberant,
a crimson moon exudes pure silver.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: