Tonight
Harvest moon,
Gold enough, harrowing silver
I never thought which way
Or how often the moon
Rises before she claims western nights
But she arrives, on her schedule
And for this moon, tonight, I'm watching
Her traverse south, from her low
Eastern perch, in the cornfield
Across the road
And but for the clouds now,
I may watch how heaven changes
Into the western
Morning.
I think
If I am wakeful, I'll see
Her slip away as sun comes up,
That slip of light
Abiding.
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