harvest moon

I prefer her
autumn-time beauty
singular, haunting
because when she dons
her elegant gown
of dusty, hazy orange
for a single evening
of unpredicted delight
her impressive allure
turns my heart ablaze
breathlessly gazing at her grandeur…
"madame la lune"
our faithful moon,
in an enticing moment of plenitude,
has lost her paleness
in the harvest
with the corn,
the advent of cold days,
a moment of thanksgiving




harvest moon