Jack-O-Lantern Moon

Oh Jack-O-Lantern moon who sits down with

Big toothless grin watching the ripe corn die;

Come up here old fool!  Know this: death is myth.

Time passes; the end for men is a lie.

Seed just goes in the ground and rests awhile.

What say you of spring when it’s green all ‘round?

So ‘tis till graves open mile after mile.

Now, watch over the harvest in the ground

Till you bow to morning, pale at the sun.

The higher you rise, the smaller you get;

At end of stars, it’s time for you to run.

Oh, fat pumpkin moon, it is a sure bet

The yellow corn will spring back in the west.

It’s you, big fellow, who’s the short-term guest.