By the harvest moon
The lover’s moon reaches out,
Only to swoon
At the alter of harvest being picked out.
In a bout, the moons collide
The lover imposes its power
Fully intending to win and bide
His time to overpower such wonder.
As the lover reigns
The harvest gains, through pains of
The glory of feeding, with grains,
The world that’s exploding in a bluff.
Poetry for Change 