harvesting the moon (22/9/24)

someone took a bite-sized chunk
out of the moon
just in time, it seems
for the autumn equinox,
I suppose it being ‘super’
made it super-tasty
super-tempting,
perhaps it was the sun
jealous of its glow
though more likely in defiance
it would swell into
an overwrought red giant
and swallow it
dark side, craters and all,
or could it be a harvester
harvesting the moon
lunar rock by lunar rock
being that we’ve reached
that time of the year,
harvest time,
and even though
it feels too soon
it’s no sooner than before
once again light seeping
once more shadows creeping
through the gaps
falling from the trees
where yellowing leaves
are grieving for
a summer underspent,
all that could have been
to never be
it’s too late now
there is no waiting here
no digging up the past
nowhere left to hide
just unquiet bones
in which to confide,
stem the flow of entropy
to a fate inclined,
watch unrequited wishes
spinning off into Space,
be careful what you preach
you know what goes around
comes around again,
a toast,
a toast to the harvester,
the harvester of moons
whistling unwritten tunes
conjured from
a now inconstant air.

© 2024 robert greig