The Harvest Moon

Written by Keri Stewart
Art by Abdullah Al Mamun


it winks.
that harvest moon
blinks in wild, warm song.

a golden gaze like hay to graze,
beams like the honey-toned
eyes of an owl,
the fine feathers of a yellow
warbler flying at dawn,
the peel of an orange, slightly bruised.

take flight!
the marvels of a stellar bright.
symmetrical glows emerge as

a fresh set of wings guide the moon,
the haze of night
singing sweet lullabies
that lunar grounds learned long ago.

celestial bodies understand,
and in understanding,
they record each star
blinking in morse code.

alas, the harvest moon grows cold,
dying down to a faded blister,
a lesion where skin will grow.
and as it continues to rise,
even amidst the faded sky,
it does so perfectly—

how perfectly imperfect
it glides into place.

the clouds fall like blankets,
and with it, the moon
whispers goodbye,
blinking morse code bright
to every passerby.

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