The shadows caste were long upon the span of empty field,
darkness grayed the rye gleanings beneath a Hunter's moon.
Purple pansies bruised by an early frost bend blackening
in the porch's planter hiding there beneath a Hunter's moon.
The farmer's gunshot cracks the air a white tails flee to glen
soon the venison with hang on hooks beneath a Hunter's moon.
The silo's full of cattle corn, the apple trees picked clean, so bare
ring necked geese are on the lake lamenting beneath a Hunter's Moon.
All that's secret, haunts the shade, fingering the pods and seeds
blanched, washed by the light unwavering beneath a Hunter's Moon.