The Stag

Tonight I bleat, I bay; my hooves I beat

  Under the rutting moon.

Autumn awakened my ancient beast 

  Unto the rutting moon. 

I clash and thrash; my rack defeats

  And reddens the rutting moon.

Fair fillies all shall fear; tonight I feast

  Beneath the rutting moon.

My savage silenced, I return to peace

  And await the rutting moon.

YBDs notes 1: Ed thinks that while my appearance is reminiscent of Walt Whitman, my poem isn't.  I was deeply inspired by the incredible encounter last night and spent a few minutes putting it to verse.  And perhaps it's why I chose this time to fast. 

YBDs notes 2: Or I may just be gettin ready for an audition on duck dynasty...