Blue Harvest Moon
Comes silently
on sorrel moccasins
roosted on tortoiseshell
of root cellar
singing, stumbling
in numb imaginings
lit with half-light
vegetables
squeezed in jars
of russet and avocado
above
a cornice of sky
split with laughter
searching
for broken arrowheads
gold and silver among leaves
air billowed white
from lips
soft frail bones
of snowflakes
magically appear
scattering in breath
taken away
into apple night
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