Hunter’s Moon

Hunter's Moon

By Jonathan Bennett

Predawn wake-up and into warm clothing
With coffee, poured, insulated, in hand
Before stepping under winter night, stars.
Heavy soles crunching drought-parched, fallen leaves
Revealing me to darkness and her ears
Until, reaching a place that's all prepared,
Silence and with the universe fading,
The stillness and the waiting now begins.
Head and eyes turn and search the baited earth
For the moving branch. Ears sharp for footfalls
As a north wind blows, provides a decoy
(a distraction to help keep the secret,
Or a test to see if I am ready?)
And out of one corner I note the pass
Of full moon behind nearly naked trees
Marking sunrise start of another day
Of watching for the object of my hunt--
A trophy as proof these wilderness hours
Were not time wasted or actions in vain.
Sun turning frost to vapor, I resist
Reacting—bagging the first sighted prey,
Which, though promising a day's contentment,
Would leave me, come tomorrow, wondering.
As the morning becomes noon, I stand, walk
Tossing away secrecy by sunlight,
And I hear behind the rustle of leaves,
Feel the weight of hidden eyes behind me.
Walking on, toward a temporary home,
I wonder if I am hunter or prey.