With this issue of FHL WEEK appearing the morning after the annual Hunters’ Moon,* we consider this poem especially appropriate!
By Edric G. Roberts
The horizon, sapphire and amethyst,
Pales in the East and soon,
Like a copper shield through the evening mist,
Rises the Hunters’ Moon.
On the turnpike road every hoof-beat sounds
Clear in the frosty air,
As the Whip jogs home with the straggler-hounds
Jostling his weary mare.