Harvest moon by unknown
Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.
Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.
While yesterday’s full moon was a “pink moon” (unlike the “harvest moon” which comes in September), this found poem from the Western Massachusetts Missed Connections is still a beautiful tribute to the new season ahead of us.
