A Midsummer Night's Scene (Poetry)

Still as boulders born of anthracite
the cows are scattered round the fields of night
sleeping on their feet
and dreaming bovine dreams
of lusher pastures, maybe, and clear mountain streams
with water cool and sweet.

There is no wind and stars are hanging low
the waning moon has not long left to go
she’s looking sickly
way too tired to climb the steep slope of the sky
she hovers — a sturdy gang of trees nearby
a safety net to catch her quickly

should she fall. From a corner of that dark
a fox throws out his short sharp bark
unsettles waiting air
then the trembling hoot of an unseen owl
answers as a farm dog starts to howl
and fear spreads everywhere.

The rabbits in the meadow bolt for home
and Brock out quietly foraging alone
freezes by the gate
sniffs cautiously for danger before ambling on
across the lower field where the grass stands long
in its calm moon-silvered state.

From the quiet forest spirits stardust-thin
slide out to trick whoever’s sly and travelling
under cover — drunkard — poacher — thief
shadow follows shadow jerking round
spooked by sudden jagged bursts of sound
a whirr of wings — the snap of hungry teeth.

In grainy silhouette the scene acts out
the snoozing audience shows beyond reasonable doubt
they’ve seen it all before
Nature knows how every story ends
caring nothing for what pleases or offends
while enigmatic cattle doze some more.