Harvest Moon

When amber leaves drift down from twilight skies,


They gild the earth in melancholy flame;


Yet shadows stretch, where ghostly whispers rise,


And ancient winds recall October’s name.

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The harvest moon with gentle silver breath


Bestows its blessing on the quiet land,


While jack-o’-lanterns grin at fleeting death,


Their hollow laughter carved by mortal hand.

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Between the warmth of hearts and chilling dread,


The soul finds wonder balanced on a thread;


Where cider sweet and graveyard tales are wed,


And pumpkins glow while restless spirits tread.

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So autumn walks with beauty, dark and bright,


A fleeting dream of shadow kissed by light.

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Beneath a harvest moon the branches moan,


Their twisted fingers claw the withered air;


The orchard whispers secrets long o’ergrown,


And shadows weave a dirge through fields once fair.

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Grave candles flicker where the frost has crept,


The jackdaw shrieks above the churchyard stone;


Here restless earth recalls the tears once wept,


And seeds of fear in mortal hearts are sown.

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Yet in this chill, a beauty darkly blooms,


The velvet night draped deep in sable shrouds;


Its silence sweeter than the daylight’s tunes,


A charm that binds both graves and midnight clouds.

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So autumn reigns, a queen both dread and sweet,


Her crown of bone, her throne of fallen wheat.

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