Here's to the coming Harvest Moon!

Harvest Moon – The Mockingbird Sings In The Night

No sky could hold

so much light –

and here comes the brimming,

the flooding and streaming

out of the clouds

and into the leaves,

glazing the creeks,

the smallest ditches!

And so many stars!

The sky seems stretched

like an old black cloth;

behind it, all

the celestial fire

we ever dreamed of!

And the moon steps lower,

quietly changing

her luminous masks, brushing

everything as she passes

with her slow hands

and soft lips –

clusters of dark grapes,

apples swinging like lost planets,

melons cool and heavy as bodies –

and the mockingbird wakes

in his hidden castle;

out of the silver tangle

of thorns and leaves

he flutters and tumbles,

spilling long

ribbons of music

over forest and river,

copse and cloud –

all heaven and earth –

wherever the white moon

fancies her small wild prince –

field after field after field.

Mary Oliver