In the middle of the night
In the middle
Of the window
Stunned still
Its glare floods
The furrows
Of the pillow
Turn
There are dreams to reap
For the long winter ahead
Harvest
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The harvest moon. The moon as dream-spinner. The moon as autumnal deity escorting us into winter. But most cogently, Poetry, that “stunned moon” of yours in the window, a wonderful image and an unacknowledged truth.
Thank you.