Harvest Moon

In the fall of the year all was ready to be picked,
or plucked, or dug, or skinned and dressed; put up for the cold times.
In the dark the prayers offered to the Earth Mother, the thanks given,
when under the Harvest Moon my mother gave birth to me,
on her own birthday, her harvest, her legacy, another girl child,
to pick and gather all the fruits to keep her tribe alive and well,
and in my own time another girlchild, in the cold times.
Luna in her Harvest dress provides the harvest
for those of us who look to Her, and choose to give.
For those who choose to be the Harvest.