This poem appears in the Fall 2015 issue of Modern Age. To subscribe now, go here.
My father’s shoulders thrust me to the sky.
“Off to the fruit stalls! Piggy-back for you!”
But I might have to duck: the harvest moon
was bigger than the world and coming close!
“It’s just a pumpkin happy it can sail.”
He told me what I knew. And there I reached
and touched the harvest of the years to come.