Harvest Moon in Boston

By Spacemom

the sky is a deep cobalt blue

lunar light illuminates the scattered clouds

geese honk, flying in formation

leaves crackle, dry skins breaking under my feet

air nips my ears, frost is due

no pumpkin pie or scarecrow

Can ever summon the ghosts of Autumns past

like the sounds and sights of a

clear

cold

night