Slowly ‘Harvest Moon’ rose against the eastern horizon, shining it’s white light across the open plain, shadowed hill, the vacant desert. “A beautiful sight,” called the Ravens.
‘Harvest Moon’ hung gently between clouds dancing amid graying puffs as they floated away into the night. “Such joy,” cried the Ravens.
Ever higher, ‘Harvest Moon’ raised, hovering far beyond the touch of land, of water, of the wind and fire. “Murder creates life,” teased the Ravens.
Then as one, the black birds flew away, pitching ‘Harvest Moon’ sideword, sacrificing all it harbored into a new existence. “Murder creates life,” laughed the Ravens.