Harvest moon rose slowly

In the autumnal solstice tonight

Above the royal blue rolling hills

And sleeping Texas cattle

Tucked beneath the southern sky

My soul peeled quickly back

Like corn shucks

The same ochre of the buttered popcorn moon

While clouds wafting by, slowly passed and sighed

A faint picture gone too soon

Wind running her fingers through the native grasses

On the side of a two-lane road

As I passed

Letting my fingers be ravaged by heavy night wind

Desperately wishing that the season

Could be held within my grasp.