The Eighth Full Moon
I.
The Eighth full moon
The brightest of the year
"Gaze at it" she said
From across the water
And so I did
It was lovely, bright and red
And the land around me
Was clear to be seen
Even the yellow flowers
And the golden ridge
So I knew
That this would be the night
I crept across the field
watching every step
I tested for the wind
The Cattails were my goal --
They beyond the ridge
But before the quiet road
In a low and wide ditch
Shaped something like a bowl
The crickets creaked them loud
The toads released their swell
I moved up on the ridge
Somewhat above the dell
And the rhythm of the night
Became the rhythm of my blood
And I waited for some sign
That my plan might come to good.
II
Low I crouched, counting crickets
Until all apprehension left me.
The moon climbed and yellowed
And I waited till I drowsed.
Then there came the sound
A crash and gallop,
A shuffle and a snort --
The moon, now low to my right
Gave the barest light to mark
The wizened buck,
Smaller than I thought,
And muzzled with gray.
His scent blew up to me
And his eyes looked up the ridge
Right at me,
Firing in the moonlight.
He froze
I froze
Then he stepped two steps and froze again
We locked eyes a long time
But I never made a move
Unless it was the pounding in my neck.
III.
At last he broke toward
The rushes, flashing with awing speed
But stopped there at the entrance
Looking back at me
He dipped his head as if to eat
But he eyed me all the time
And though I made no sound
In a moment he was gone
IV.
A long while I stayed there on the ridge side
Until the sky lightened and I could hear the cars.
Then I shook out my sleeping leg
And hobbled toward home.
At the road I took one long look back:
Brother I know you, I said.
