Harvest Eclipse

Each year, I forget
how fearless
the eloquence of autumn,
these cell-humming yellows
that shatter the sky
in the sepia sunlight
of Septembers.

Again, winter is coming-
moving our bodies,
yours and mine,
one turn closer
toward that final night.
And despite this endless wheel,
or perhaps because if it,
my heart reaches up to the heavens
and erupts into one million
unexpected stars.

Give me the quiet
of a blood red moon,
pregnant in its proximity,
and no less sublime
for the darkness
it has become.

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