It is the season.
Of Harvest Moons
Sunsets of Glory
And Large Dogs.
The mist rising from a pond like apparitions from a haunting.
The moment before sunrise.
Heaven Came Down, and Glory Filled My Soul.
I wait for the season, pining, and it is over too soon.
The fall days, when Life sighs and readies itself for its long sleep of winter.
And something takes a bite out of the Hunter Moon.