It is the Mad Moon

The mad thresher 

In  golden moon's glow

Gleans the solemn harvest

From barren earth below

Seeds were sown

In wanton abandon

In gardens bereft of care

Left fallow land and

Their fruits then only spare

But from a seed

Forests may someday flourish

For not all need

Our attention to be nourished

For what man hath wrought

To esteem and guard from plunder

Nature without a thought

Will easily rend asunder



opher goodwin Added Nov 20, 2017 - 7:36pm
TBH - the works of men will surely be buried by nature some day and it will be resurrected - not the same but different - maybe eventually better.
The forest will one day flourish again.
Passion Blues Added Nov 20, 2017 - 8:18pm
TBH- They do say that nature is a Mother, :) , and like most strong females, she will do whatever she chooses. Seeds are often tossed around with wanton abandon, the farmer is obviously male. Beautiful prose my friend, I can picture the forest.
Even A Broken Clock Added Nov 21, 2017 - 8:04pm
Good poetry. I like the rhyming scheme.

Recent Articles by Writers The Burghal Hidage follows.