Moonlight Dancing
It is not so much for its beauty that the forest makes a claim upon men’s hearts, as for that subtle something, that quality of air that emanation from old trees, that so wonderfully changes and renews a weary spirit.
Robert Louis Stevenson
Beneath the lofty canopy of ancient white oaks,
luminous beams of moonlight were dancing.
Their rhythmic cadence observed by amber eyes,
a pack of hunters, roaming the woodlands.
Myriads of stars were quickly fading from view
as ashen skies paled to blue across the horizon.
Dawn bathed the land in soft morning light,
embellishing the rolling hills. A new day was born.
The first rays of sunlight gilded droplets of dew,
and upon beds of moss, night creatures slept.
March 8, 2022
Form I - Imagism - New Poem Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
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