Tonight the darkness, thwarted,
Forest trails fade to white…
A Hunter’s Moon silently whispers
In my ear, “I’m the sky tonight”.
Chanterelle mushrooms, glowing
Harvested, cut, so easily found…
No pig here to find truffles,
Just the moon and my pug-nosed hound.
One very curious elk stag,
Observed us while guarding his home…
Raising antlers in submission,
Still declaring the forest his own.
He knew I was not a hunter,
With the mushrooms in my sack…
No matter what the moon was named,
He was safe; both tail and rack.
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