Bert Swope
In the October night’s embrace, it looms, A silver orb in the midnight’s gloom, The Harvest Moon, a radiant boon, A beacon in the vast celestial room.
It rises slow, with an amber hue, Casting shadows ‘neath the trees it strew, A lantern in the autumn’s waning days, Illuminating paths in its gentle blaze.
Its beauty unmatched, a celestial dance, A symbol of nature’s bountiful trance, The fields are ripe, the crops are blessed, By this luminous orb, we are caressed.
The farmers toil ‘neath its gentle gleam, Harvesting dreams, fulfilling their scheme, The fruits of labor, the yield they’ve sown, Under the Harvest Moon’s radiant throne.
With whispered tales of old, we’re told, Of legends and stories, mysteries unfold, The moon in October, a time to reflect, On the cycles of life, we must introspect.
As autumn leaves fall in a golden tide, The Harvest Moon fills us with pride, A symbol of abundance, nature’s grace, In its soft glow, we find our place.
So raise your eyes to the midnight sky, As the Harvest Moon ascends up high, In its radiant glow, may we all swoon, For the beauty and significance of this October Moon.
