-- Sickle of the Moon --
By John Herlihy
Is it I or the crescent moon
That trembles in the night sky?
Curved simitar, nearing the horizon,
Cuts through the night’s darkness.
With its sharp, avenging blade,
Through the bleak darkness.
Its movement imperceptible, but sure,
Its silence inaudible, but pure.
The stars twinkle their faint glimmer,
Moonlight cast beads that shimmer.
The night wrapped in hidden mystery,
Blinding us with its treasured beauty.
Night after night celestial envoys appear,
Holding hearts on the tip of their spear.
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Copyright ©John Herlihy
Friday 9 June 2023
I happened to see a crescent moon the other night and it was beautiful.
Most young people today don't know what a sickle or scythe is. But before modern mowing machines, it was the way that people cut their crops of wheat, oats, rye or barley. I remember well my grandfather's scythe with its beautiful heavily worn wood curvature, two handles, and a blade sharpened so many times it was getting very thin. His way of cutting grass around the house and along the driveway. But he probably brought in crops with it in his father's homestead carved out of lumbered over Wisconsin wilderness.
Ron