Sounds From the Night

Sounds From the Night

A grievous screech peals in the night,
The leaden thuds of footsteps pound,
And creatures slink without a sound,
As a greater strength prepares it’s might.
The clouded sky puts out the moon,
Like stuffed smoke in a crowded den
Of fearful decomposing men,
As the dread of dark does nearer loom.
Dull moon, it’s glowing sliver dim,
Haunts all the woods with sinister
Grin, and the trees administer
A thousand shadows from their limbs,
That splinter the ground in sundry etch,
Writing mad tales of lunar breath
Composed from boundless primal depths,
And absent of light, draws its sketch.
And so I sit with crunching leaves,
The rattled twigs in ghostly airs,
The still-life owls with piercing stares,
The dead sky’s respiratory heaves.
The wood’s heart thumps louder as it nears,
Ever closing distance, yet not
Arriving here, that I’d be caught,
But always there, menacing my ear.
The darkness hides behind the trees
A ghastly voice that seeks to seize
My hope in heart to escape the siege
Of the night’s endless reaping flee.