Hunter’s Moon

Tonight, the sky is heavy with light,

a copper globe rising over the trees,

its edges softened by the chill.

Silent as the woods wait below,

and in the distance, shadows stretch,

elongated whispers of the day.

The moon calls to those who listen,

its pale voice echoing through the branches,

reminding us of what is hunted,

and what is lost.

The earth holds its breath.

Leaves rustle in the wind's slow sigh,

a heartbeat shared between the stars

and the creatures that walk beneath.

The night is not still—

it pulses, it watches, it remembers.

A reminder,

of seasons turning and the wild within us

that never sleeps.