Monday, November 2, 2009

11-02-2009 Full Moon WOW

I just took this out front of my house - Anyone else feeling like they are growing fangs and wee but hairy?

In all seriousness, seemed appropriate to return to one of my favorite poems:

Under the Harvest Moon by Carl Sandburg

Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the 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.

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