Harvest Moon Rising
Susan Heffron Hajec
A shimmering moon came down
from the sky
and touched her in the soft earth
of the Wildwood.
“Will you take a ride with me?”
asked the moon, gentle and kind.
Intrigued by this visit, she sat herself
in the welcoming center womb
of the moon and it rose
once again into the high reaches
of the swirling color creations
of her moon-lit sky with no ceiling.
“Where are we going?” she inquired
as stars, like lightening bugs, flicked
and sparkled all around her.
“To your harvest,” replied the November moon
as the horizon widened below them.
She looked down and saw millions of seeds,
reflections of her love, planted over the varied
seasons of her life span.
They had fallen deep into the soil, seeking
both the heat of the earth’s center
and the touch of the sun above.
Risen to the surface were bountiful fruits,
many of which were random and scattered —
unplanned spontaneous seedlings —
some were such simple seeds as to have been
forgotten by her.
Now they spread across the Wildwood
seeping out into the wider world, they
enriched all that they touched.
She, the author of kindness and creation,
relaxing in the kaleidoscope of color-filled purpose,
breathed into the movement of Harvest Moon
and now, opened even more
to the discovery found in journey.
Napkinwriter 