The Hunt

The moon plays at being the midnight sun with abandon he struts across the sky in such majesty it catches my eye I bow in obeisance, my heart is won Behind him come plunderous clouds of white riders on horses with dust in their wake racing steeds on a quest to overtake the renegade moon in his selfish plight Closing in for capture they poise their net as the stars watch their proud King's demise the clouds press on eager to seize the prize and use the moon's light to their own benefit The final bugle sounds, in hues of gold The sun peeks up to watch it all unfold