Saturday, September 23, 2017

Harvest Time (Day 248)

Some gathering 
pilgrims set forth 
in pairs, gathering baskets
and woolen clothes like clouds, 
departing at the edge 
of night, the moon’s high 
spirits straighten the road 
before them, winding 
around their ankles like 
a hungry cat. Impractical 
brimstone singes 
falling apples as they land,
purifying the blushing skins
of summer’s gritty haze.
Harvest time, the farm-stand days
glow like boys in love, 
newly bright, buoyant. Once 
clumsy, landing heavily on their 
youth, this tapered light 
now liquifies, they preen 
and joust. Love rises unfairly, 
comfortable lies settle in 
heavy folds where frozen 
stars swarm overhead. 
Blue sadness maintains 
silence among the lost, 
their easy brilliance cracking, 
snapping loudly under the burden
of too-soon hardened hearts.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: UK National Archives (public domain)

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