Hunters moon

The Hunters moon came a day early.
I caught its giant eye on full display.
As I lay sleepy in the wake of a holy day.
A day of confessions and reconciliation.
A day my son gained true affiliation.
His shirt was black and his jumper grey but his bow tie as golden as the light of day.
I dreampt of his taper lighting the candles preparing for the alter and my soul was at peace for his future as a child of the light.
Yet a little more serenity than any sleep could handle.
And I feasted to overflow a celebration on my own.
For the calling caused him to fear being alone.
In a world of games pushing him to fight, the hunters moon was orange and bright but the clouds cover it this predicted Sunday night.
Its mysteries hidden in veils of white - my son already hunted and caught by the light.