Harvest Moon

 

I searched frantically for you.

Carving around bends and cutting across hills

Suffused with evening shadow. Eyes peeled and neck staining;

All for a glimpse.

My night vision blurred by headlights I all but gave up:

Then there you were. Just a glimmer, me playing peekaboo peering

through thorny hedgerows to crest a hill to see

your full glory revealed.

Hanging there, impossibly large.

A peeled apple, with the edge chopped cleanly.

I drank you in, intoxicated by the final touches of your eclipse,

One edge gently broiling, rippling like snowmelt

for one glorious minute, then cradled in obscuring cloud.

 

© Tom Tide 2016

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