harvest moon
the small puddle
nearly filled

getting colder
no hop left
in the grasshopper

highland lake —
burnt button grass
on both sides of the moon

day moon —
another armful
of shriveled corn

Alabama farm
the scarecrow dressed
in white linen

full moon —
all our sounds
are vowels

stepping stones
the river changes
its tune

early autumn
the farmer sands a splinter
on a buggy spoke

Indian summer
we need to be reminded
to let the young win

barn loft
my children scatter wheat grains
grandfather heaped up