'I saw the new moon late yestreen
Wi' the auld moon in her arm;
And if we gang to sea, master,
I fear we'll come to harm.'

'The Ballad of Sir Patrick Spens' (anon)

Bitter Harvest

The new moon has the old moon in her arms tonight,
and over Moseley the air is still, the stars wink

feebly through the light-spill of the city,
no chance of deadly storms outside; inside

my bones whisper of the Mistral shaking shoots
in Courthezon, leaves we thought we'd never see,

coldly insinuating it is time to go;
we cannot harvest what we did not sow

URL: http://mourne.org/harvest.htm

Photo Credit & Copyright: Laurent Laveder