November

waning moon

in the chestnut tree -

golden leaves

round it

in their tremble

                            --Steliana Cristina Voicu

aspiring towards elevated 

amidst prozac 

waxing gibbous

                            --Jerome Berglund

yellow moon

he insists on drinking

the harvest

                        --C. X. Turner

all the time

I thought I was right

autumn side effects

                            --Lakshmi Iyer

first frost moon

the bruises on my legs

changing colour

                            --Agnieszka Filipek

crickets chirp

dewdrops on a leaf’s tip 

reflect the fading moon

                            --Karen Zhao

stuck

in the fork of a stump

full moon

                            --R. Suresh babu

not a voice or stir...

darkness lies on fields and streets

sad:  the moon has set

                            --Imozeni

Leaves on a limbo

California cobblestones

wear the paint of your

sudden departure/

the carousel colors

rounding the railroad

tracks, cliff diving the

causeway, sketching

skies in north Singapore

with me in the pile up

of lost loves and leaves

that go limbo-ing

'neath these harvest of hills

'neath the autumn time moon

where I climb to each time

seeing y’all off again

Novembering you.

                            --Emalisa Rose

No Autumn in Bali But

Green fields;

Green grasshoppers.

Fresh waterways; fresh fish.

Masked in banyan trees, bulbuls sing.

And beneath November’s moon pandan breath of civets sweetens our air.

                            --James Penha

Blood Moon

harder to walk away

than not…

falling leaves moon

                            --Tony Williams

moan and wail of wind

scrape and shiver of dry leaves

silent moon above                            

                            --Katherine Quevedo

blood moon

leafless canopy

banshees cry

                            --Maria DePaul

midnight 

the bare branches balance 

the autumn moon 

                            --Minal Sarosh

first frost moon

the last look

in her eyes

                            --C. X. Turner

Night Heron

 

in the brackish, briny edge

of the tidal channel

under the waning light of a quarter moon

 

a black-crowned night heron

on yellow legs

under tucked gray wings

 

stands on driftwood

waits for a fish

or a frog

 

there’s a splash

for an instant, he holds a mantis shrimp

in his thick black beak

 

dawn comes

with the chill

of autumn fog

 

and he disappears

the steady beat of wings

all that’s left

                                   --Andrea Wyatt

Lamentation
  
Screech
owl
calls twice.
His keening?
My wild call farewell,
my final vibrato of loss.

                                --Karla Linn Merrifield