Full moon. The brazen eye of midnight scans 
the black and swollen mountains oozing fire 
high over the indifference of the sleeping plains 
hazed with the perfumed smoke of death and fear 
under the radiant zenith. It is not far 
from here to the wild flags of havoc flying 
out of the doomed and bannered trees before 
the west wind, hilarious hunter plying 
nets and whips of flame, the trumpet playing 
a ghastly fanfare.