Phantasmargoria
The night sky is punched with the Harvest moon,
a buttercup hued orb caught by the limbs of an Autumn tree.
The stars are cut diamonds, silver bursts for this night in bloom.
The night sky is punched with a Harvest moon,
the rustle of the leaves, the dying crickets tune,
the street light as bright, but there are tales
we tell with glee,
of the night sky that is punched with the Harvest moon,
a buttercup hued orb caught by the limbs of an Autumn tree.
Copyright © Jennifer Cahill | Year Posted 2020
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