EYES OF A NEW MORNING   <return to contents

Harvest Moon Over Hotevilla
Sagebrush sunset, onset of night,
day’s last light caught in red rock formations.
Moon gleams off northern mesas
unbroken by trees, buildings, poles.
To furthest north, and east,
she casts a most sacred light,
full of gold,
setting night plains on fire,
as though looking down on someone
who’s done something
to deserve this harvest moon…

Like, maybe, prayed to the moon
for a good harvest. From a mesa.
From a hogan. From a vision.
From a respect. From a devotion.

Mooncast silences us.
We drive forward,
gathering the harvest,
     gathering the harvest,
          gathering the harvest,
                    gathering
                          the
                            harvest