Harvest Moon
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The harvest moon appears behind the hill
In purest enchantment like so foretold,
As her radiant tassels glimmer still
Like embroidered lace of russet and gold.
From whispering of the ambient breeze,
A nightscape etches autumn’s moss and fir
Through lucent bowers of glorious trees;
Where dragonflies and owls reel on, astir.
How bold the prism of a cycle’s ray
While September’s moonrise adorns the earth;
Igniting bright pageantry on display
With holy graces from nature’s rebirth.
Till majesty of lit sparkle descends;
And once more evenings’ ceremony ends.
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For John Hamilton's Your best rhyming poem-2
Posted 8.28.2016 Resubmitted 2.3.2017
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Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2016
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