Harvest Moon

Beneath the glow of autumn’s eye, fields of gold sway in the wind, where the air is ripe with promise, a gathering of flavors waiting.

Corn stalks whisper secrets, as the earth yields her bounty, a communion between grain and sky, a tapestry of toil and time.

At dusk, lanterns flicker to life, a celebration of the harvest, adorned by nature’s generous hand, an offering of warmth to share.

• María Pizarro