Corn Moon
A harmony of
crickets sing on
this night of
the corn moon,
while the silken
tassels of a
breeze tease across
the landscape, scattering
wistful across your
skin, with just
the barest hint
of melancholy as
summer begins its
slow meander into
yet another autumn.
Already you begin
to whisper your
goodbyes, to look
to the skies
for the answers
that are never
easy, but surely
necessary for the
pieces of the
puzzle you still
tirelessly hope will
fall into place.
You seek for
grace, but some–
times fall short
so you try
again, as you
are given to
do, being at
your most human
when seasons change,
as loved ones
come and go,
without a trace
suns rise and
fall, and moons
wax and wane.
