25 October: Hunter, Hound, and Moon
25
October: Hunter, Hound, and Moon
Wind had told Crow.
Crow had told Fox.
Fox informed Rabbit,
Who speedily told the rest.
But none had told Hound,
Too often in the company of Hunter,
And so could not now be trusted.
But Hound was quite clever,
And not all of the Wild had left him,
Though long had he lain at Hunter’s hearth.
Now Hound would slip the door,
And bolts at speed to Wood,
Hunter trails unwilling,
Bow to hand,
Fearing danger Hound would confront.
Hound leads Hunter to unknown glade,
Resting ‘neath Robin Red’s tree,
Who trills his Sunset Song.
Dark closes quick,
And Moon peers silent through the trees.
Yellow-clothed at the horizon,
She slowly ascends,
And soon sheds her saffron,
To sheen in pearled white.
Rays and beams reach forth glimmering fingers,
To wrap Hunter in gleaming glamour.
Now Hunter is taken by some fascination:
Wiping at eyes somehow blurring,
Shoulders shaking in ecstasy,
Or sudden understanding –
I know not which.
There sat this Hunter,
Weeping in joy or bafflement,
Not broken,
Not afraid,
But in some way renewed.
Some griming cleansed,
Some soiling purged,
Some souls’ staining absolved,
Washed clean in silvered brilliance.
Hound had crept close,
Wind had whispered soft,
Crow had lighted near,
Fox had sat nigh,
Rabbit had settled at last.
All had gathered to make honor:
Last moon before Winterhold.
Hunter and Hound gathered what wit remained to them,
Slowly making way homeward,
But at the last,
Hunter bows to forest
In recognition of lesson learned.
The close of this year presses,
Soon Nature will don her winter robe,
But buried beneath our consciousness
Some faint reverence remains,
Thus we still name this rising:
Hunters Moon.
And should you feel slight sooted,
Should there be a tarnish of your being,
Bathe in Hunter’s Moon…
Cleanse some small part of you.
She rises for all.
Cliff Lake 10/22/2026
Copyright © Clifford Lake 2026
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