As with those moments either side of sunset or sunrise, the emergence of the moon over the mountain is met with a pausing of the songs, calls, and movement of the nightwalkers.
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Then, as her cooling silvery light begins to illuminate the forest, the creatures start to move once again and the air becomes resonant with their voices.
Overhead, bee eaters commence a wild aerial choreography and their liquid voices call to and praise the arrival of the moon.
I join them in this paean and recall my own pledge to name all the full moons of this year after the manner of the First people of this world.
This is a part of my own re-indigenisation to this place.