‘Night of the Long Moon’

6 Aug

Night of the Long Moon

Poetry © The Hedge by Rona Campbell

The ringing white light

Slings shadows

Far beyond

The hyena’s howl,

Or mad lusting men,

Whose evil shines blade-sharp

When the moon is full.

The long-moon stripes the river

With tree trunks,

Rapids nibble chunks

From her water-face.

The plain-lane cuts a wrinkle

Across the earth’s cheek.

Stiff hedge-legs split,

Letting the moon

Mark the bank,

Like crocodile-cracked glass.

Clouds blink on by

Winking shadows on and off.

The long-moon draws animals

From the earth.

September barks in

Sweet sharp cubs,

They chase their shallow-brushes

Into dark places,

Tracked by white-tipped tail lights.

The light-cutter passes,

His shadow bends over solid things,

But is sliced in five by the gate,

Then sticks itself together again,

Pointing him into his drive.

It reaches the door before him,

Then up and over the roof,

‘Till his house is tucked under its arm.

The long-moon meant well,

But fed the mice to the owls,

Trout to the otters,

Moths to bats,

And the paw-sprung cat,

Played tap-it with a blind mole.

Rona Campbell

‘Simply a Slug’