Seems this November 30th full moon has many nicknames, one of them being the “beaver moon”. Another is the “Hunter’s Moon.” (Source: NJ.com news dated 11/28/20)
Which inspired me and I found the below poem.
The Hunter’s Moon
by Mathilde Blind
The Hunter’s Moon rides high,
High o’er the close-cropped plain;
Across the desert sky
The herded clouds amain
Scamper tumultuously,
Chased by the hounding wind
That yelps behind.The clamorous hunt is done,
Warm-housed the kennelled pack;
One huntsman rides alone
With dangling bridle slack;
He wakes a hollow tone,
Far echoing to his horn
In clefts forlorn.The Hunter’s Moon rides low,
Her course is nearly sped.
Where is the panting roe?
Where hath the wild deer fled?
Hunter and hunted now
Lie in oblivion deep:
Dead or asleep.
Sally in the Zen
