Many Many Moons/Red-Rock, the Moose-Hunter

by Lew Sarett

RED-ROCK, THE MOOSE-HUNTER

Bronze in the rose-dusted twilight,
A statue of bronze, arms uplifted,
He stands ankle-deep in the lilies
As rigidly fixed and as silent
As a red granite butte on the prairie,
As still as the dusk in the foot-hills—
"Ugh! Red-Rock, big hunter-of-moose!
Red-Rock, him fool-um old bull!
Red-Rock, big moose-killer!—Ugh!"
Bronze in the tranquil sunset,
Statuesque bronze in the willows.

A sudden rush through the lilies;
A splashing of flashing limbs,
Shattering his mirror of silver,—
Juggling his gold-glinted rainbows,
And flinging them into the winds;
A sudden swoop through the waters,
A sudden scoop of the hands,—
And bronze in the copper twilight,
With arms uplifted he stands,
Statuesque bronze in the lilies—
"Red-Rock, big caller-of-moose!—Ugh!"

Dripping, dripping, dripping
Blue-shimmering drops through his fingers;
Dripping, dripping, dripping
Thin tinkling streams from his palms;
Plashing, plashing, plashing
Cupped handfuls of silvery waters
Splashing among the lilies—
Black bronze in the purple twilight,
Statuesque bronze in the night—
"Red-Rock! Big hunter-of-moose!—Ugh!"

A long low call from the valley;
A bellow, an echoing bugle
Mellow and deep with the passion
Of lone longing male for his mate:
"Hark! Hark! sweet One-in-the-Lilies!
Ho! my Splashing-One! Ho!
I come!—with my limbs aquiver!
I come!—with a straining of flanks!"

Beat-beating, beat-beating, beat-beating,
Long-loping feet in the forest;
A clashing of horn tn the timber,
A crashing of hoofs in the brush,—
A splash in the placid bayou,
An eager nose to the air,
And lo! a palpitant bellow,
A wild-ringing rapturous blare! . . .

Black bronze in the cool blue moonlight!
Black statuesque bronze in the night!
Cupped hands to the stars uplifted,—
Dripping, dripping, dripping
Thin tinkling streamlets of silver,
Soft-plashing fountains of silver,
Shimmering-blue sprinklings of silver—
"Red-Rock! Big killer-of-moose!—Ugh!"