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Gray Brethren II
In the half light, half night of the blood moon they came,
Fractious and bickering, a wild snarling and a whickering,
They stalked the old lame mare,
Who'd never seen their kind before,
But cold instinct bid beware.
With the frantic baying of the chain bred kindred
And a single warning shot,
They were gone.
The sick mare didn't see the new moon,
They knew that her time would come soon.
Just grey hairs tangled in the paddock fencing,
A familiar yet alien pugmark,
Two swans from the mill fleet, now missing,
Children and the livestock called home before dark,
And the badly scarred face and neck of a young Roebuck.
But I'm glad they're back and I wish them every luck.
