Friday, September 24, 2010

harvest (2008)

Mornings come later now
permeated with scent of harvest
green and red and the bright orange
of the Harvest Moon
Morning air, heavy with moisture
seeps through my pores
into my bones
I see ships sailing in rough sea
their fortune a deity's toss of dice,
or whim
ships laden with treasure
and sailors desperately loved
On a placid pond three ships sail
a fine sunny regatta
The deep decay of harvest
carries me home

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