Poem by Cindy M. Buhl

HARVEST MOON

Tonight is the harvest moon
when the full moon rises early,
sits upright on the horizon,
bright as sun in lingering twilight.

Field hands grab a couple more hours –
cut, bundle, and sort the crops,
children tag after, search out the leavings,
nothing to waste.

It’s not labor to gather the gleanings,
cross the pasture, wash them for a neighbor,
waft the scent before hollow cheeks,
fill bare spaces with a harvest moon.

Click to hear the poet read the poem.

Cindy M. Buhl lives in Washington, D.C., where she is a member of the Writers Center. For over two decades she has worked in Congress as a foreign policy expert, with an intense focus on hunger, food security, nutrition, and agriculture. Her work has appeared in Spillway Magazine, Crosswinds Poetry Journal, Minerva Rising, NELLE, San Pedro River Review, District Lines, and elsewhere.

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