Harvest Moon Poem by Carolyn Brunelle
Harvest Moon
Chenille dotted foothills
Boast more gold
Than green
As summer
Sinks into the leaves
This first day of fall.
Harvest toil
Sweats
Under scorching sun;
Its dust
Hovers in clouds
Over the valley.
It is only a
Harvest moon
That waits
For first frost
And long
Chilly nights.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
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5/3/2024 5:34:41 AM # 1.0.0.1119
