Harvest in the Dark

Late summer dinner:
Ripeness collides with early night. 

I slice tomatoes, each a mini sun, 
as crickets lay their sound bed down.

Corn percolates in the boiling pot – 
Outside, velvet dark. 

To stay good with the powers beyond, 
I notice the once-only moment,

though its sisters spin in repetition 
each New England September.

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