2014 Day 5 Lunar Lunes

The hunter’s bow
Shines like a maiden’s eyes
Seeing her prey.

The round moon –
Ripe as a mother’s breasts,
Pale as milk.

Curved with age,
Crone moon rides the sky,
Wise and inscrutable.

Her hidden face,
Known only by an absence,
Is also beautiful.

 

Note: today’s prompt was to write a lune (a sort of English-language variation on the haiku, using word count – 3,5,3 – ¬†instead of syllable count) or a series of lunes.

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