the harvest poetry

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The Harvest

Poetry by Christina

The setting sun dips, blushing, 

Caresses the brown earth

Fresh with its harvested corn stubble

The creek flashed a golden shushed smile,

As the yellow-star's rays invitingly played,

Before falling deeper onto the harvest horizon.

Dried stalks stripped of their bounty

Sway in the chill of evening breeze,

The wind follows the sun away,

As the corn husk sing and sway...

Ah sasha...Ah sasaha... sassaaa

Ancient native ghost's chant.

In harvest we prepare for the quiet inbetween,

The plunge into darkness,

Before the moon,

Before the stirring of dark spirits rise, 

Warm overturned soil sighs,

Fog fills the abyss of the disappearing sun,

Silent wisps of swirling curls rise,

Leaving the smell of musky autumn

As death and decomposition approach 

In our rush to harvest all

All the sun, and wind, and soil, and toil 

Has rendered to feed us,

To keep us bound and strong,

Though inbetween the setting sun and the rising harvest moon 

We rub our aching joints face our fears of the nearing freeze,

We eat and whisper blessings upon our bodies, upon our fate, we wait and wait,

As wolves howl and bats fly, as hoots call and flocks scatter,

We still our nearves and promise true,

To finish the harvest of the spring seed planted, 

We groan and dig deep to rise,

with the harvest moon, 

Dressed in orange with eggplant clouds,

It shines to help us finish and we smile

At the bushels of our blessings

Fertile-turned land lies in shadows of our love, 

Of our trust, of our promises fulfilled again and again,

In gratitude we smile work the miles,

As frost nips the corfner of our symbiotic field

And we know, we just know, another harvest 

Upon another will come and go.

Courtesy to ......

CL Steele 💜 lady of spring fields 

,🍀🌸🍀🌸🍀🌸🍀🌸🌸🍀