Bright

Oh, Moon.
I can see you looking down on me
Behind those moving clouds,
That summer breeze.
The nights are getting colder,
The talks more intelligent.
The nights are getting quieter.
The crickets louder.
The antenna tower above the mountain is smothered by mist and fog.
Such moisture resting in the air.
The lights atop the mountain appear like fireflies.
Oh, dear Moon.
I think it smells of Autumn tonight.