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Friday, 21 October 2016

Moonlight Hunter



A silver disk
casts purple shadow
of fir and spruce,
frosted brittle grass.
On silent wings
the hunter carries its prey. 
A grizzled muzzle lifts,
sniffs the air.
A clear call cuts through,
trembles,
falls in frozen slivers, crystal shards.
Ears prick, noses twitch,
shelter is sought.
The fury descends again;
a white scream
across a blasted landscape.

6 comments:

  1. A perfect description of a snowy winter night.

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  2. Wow I always loved your poetry. good job. Hug B

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  3. You trying to tell us something? Has winter arrived in your neck of the world already? Love your poem. I can almost feel the cold.

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  4. I heard another night hunter last night...a screech owl.

    Power in your words.

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  5. Definitely poetry ... great words.
    I liked it

    All the best Jan

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It's lovely to know someone else is out there. Please leave me a comment...pretty please.