~Harvest~

"All autumn, crows raided the pecan tree, 
Pecans past ripe in brittle cases, soured; 
Thanksgiving to Christmas they harvested 
In roudy feast, wings flopping gracelessly, 
Spindle feet scraping pavement when hopping 
From one contested prize to another, 
Raising cacophonous doxology 
To whatever God has worship of beasts. 

Advent winds now rattle empty debris, 
Scattering shards of shell in the bleak yard; 
Stripped of nuts and leaves, the black pecan tree 
Trembles stiffly. From the quaking branches, 
Black insensate creatures call orisons 
And weightless fly into winter's gray sky." 
Ron Tobey

~Under the Harvest Moon~

"Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.

Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you 
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions"
Carl Sandburg