I find honesty and clarity in the harvest.
The autumnal moon waxing and waning.
Although this season comes with a bounty,
blessings, beauty, and magic;
It can also bring about a state of depression.
I feel surveilled at times these days.
I live in a state of hypervigillance...
Awaiting the next attack, the next monster;
the next ecocidal event.
All to be hit by our own demise as the t.v.
plays it out cruely on its screen.
This season is about crackling and curling
leaves- decaying in the frost.
The Harvest welcomes the season of the hunt.
A sport and violent game--Men in orange,
and padded suits; weilding firearms.
You can see the looks on the faces of your
neighbors. Every passerby; Every bus ride--
carries a furrow in the brow.
An expression of the cold. Concern.
I am an undercover journalist in all of this
madness. In a way;
I am investigating the feeling of seasons.
Artwork by Dakota Artist: Mary Sully
