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“The Reaper's Harvest by Stewart Stafford Vast underworld gates open on Samhain night, The grail Sun winters there, in paling sight. Unquiet spirits swarm forth in feral misprision, Trick-or-treat landlords knock in spectral vision. Autumn, perennially-early to Death's season, Winter's welcome overstayed in icy reason. Spring's distant wave thrills in emerging seed, Summer's blush in full alignment decreed. Snowflake to blossom, and greenery to withering; As effigy reminders of cyclical dithering, Seasonal standing stones sink to shifting sands, Saplings of the forest’s new strength, in nature’s hands. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” — Stewart Stafford
The Reaper's Harvest by Stewart Stafford
Vast underworld gates open on Samhain night,
The grail Sun winters there, in paling sight.
Unquiet spirits swarm forth in feral misprision,
Trick-or-treat landlords knock in spectral vision.
Autumn, perennially-early to Death's season,
Winter's welcome overstayed in icy reason.
Spring's distant wave thrills in emerging seed,
Summer's blush in full alignment decreed.
Snowflake to blossom, and greenery to withering;
As effigy reminders of cyclical dithering,
Seasonal standing stones sink to shifting sands,
Saplings of the forest’s new strength, in nature’s hands.
© 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.