The Time of Banbha

In the blink of an eye, Summer's flame departs.
The great wheel turns again.
The bringer of Harvest arrives, ushering forth
fields cloaked in gold.
Fertile land and ancient ways known.
Her dress glows in a comforting orange hue.
Leaves crispy, in the failing light of dusk.
Deers rut majestically in the refreshing air.
In the sky the Harvest Moon glows, triumphantly.
Cycles completed! With abundant gratitude.
The sacred time in-between summer's heat
Until the ancient hag breaths her icy breath,
And the land becomes barren once more.