The Journey

Soft grass
Beneath the feet,
The rising hill
Steals the breath.

Light fading
Shadows lengthening
Wind chills
Face and skin.

The creatures of the day, still
Those of the night, rise
To hunt and to kill,
To feed and fill.

Venus shines, Red Mars calls
But the moon,
Queen of the night
Reigns supreme.

The brow of the hill
Is past
The lights of the town
Are gone.

Just I and the moon,
Alone,
Travel on.