The colours of the evolving year
sleep behind the dark of night.
Harvest Moon pivots perfectly,
balanced on a star.
Lovers say not a word, for none make sense
here, near this coming Equinox.
It’s good to slip gently into this good night
and listen to the message of the scrying owls;
they have much to teach,
we have more to learn,
our colours of bodacious Autumn to explore.