Hunter's Moon
In deadened voices of wind-swirled willow,
speaking in a tongue only spirits can relate,
hear the sea move in its ebb and flow
beneath a moon in the hunter’s amber state.
Listen to the night for sounds of creeping fate,
stealthly stalking its unsuspecting prey.
Heed the willow’s whisper coming low to say
‘this hunting moon lights up nothing for love.’
Creatures of the night will not come to play
when a hunter’s moon shines richly up above.
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