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
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