Three Moons from Monto

Two friends circle the air
three moons from Monto
friendship is measured in wingspan
in the joined eye of hunters

Dusk before day break, a loud cloud red,
Overlooks a dark steer
as it stamps its metallic breast
along the great snake’s back,
a voice of rumbling rock
in a throat made for slaughter

Hearing this drown the language of insects
Peewees and Crows hop clear, but
the Wedge-tail Eagle is too late for soaring
and is stunned in the way
of its death

Now one friend circles the field

The dark steer moves on
hungry to interupt the silence

Two moons reach into night
and for a third up near Monto 2005/2014

MChallis ©