Harvest Moon

Once, about thirty years ago, I was walking home on an autumn night and there, off on the horizon, hung the most orange moon I'd ever seen -- the Harvest Moon.  I quickly went home and wrote this poem.

Orange moon, negative sun

     of the smoky night

            you rise, you fall

      you borrow light

caught your tail

    in love with sol

         whom you glimpse

               over the curve

                        of earth's hip

When will you embrace them again?

Luminous stone

      in a splash 

            of diamonds

          sprinkled through

        the dark mane of

    this sultry sky