Autumn arrives following a blood-red moon,
Vicars pray and People cry “The end is coming soon.”
Fears of men from distant lands make us think.
Old maids spend the night hidden under the kitchen sink.
Morning breaks and life goes on the way it did before,
With many men casting stones and crying out for war.
Peace keepers calming them as the hungry cry for food,
The greedy believe they’re cheats so call them “bloody rude.”
Berries plump amongst the thorns are fat with juice,
Leaves will fall and crackle, Under the feet of the farmyard goose.
The last apples ripen as harvesting is done,
Filberts stolen by squirrels while playing in the sun.
Pumpkins, Halloween, gingerbread and spice,
Punch that smells of cinnamon spiked with rum to make it nice.
Sweet caramel apples served on wooden sticks,
Children give sticky kisses from sugar covered lips.
As Autumn creeps through this land
No doubt the moon gave a helping hand.
An old wives tale or a prophesy
Thwarted by the trajectory.
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I hope you enjoyed this, did you see the last Harvest moon? Do you believe in its magic? let me know in the comments. I love to talk.