Glowing moon floats gently high,
Stillness fills the cooling sky,
Silence grips the shifting breeze,
Softly now; you’ll wake the trees.
Steal along with ne’er a sound,
Treading light upon the ground.
Else the shadows will come near;
Thirsty for the taste of fear.
Darkness creeps, just out of sight,
The moon provides a dwindling light.
Snap of twig and creak of stalk,
Betray the spirits subtle walk.
Misty noises float about,
Mired in the thick of doubt.
Is that scraping really there,
Muddied by the thinning air?
Don’t look back, don’t try to run;
Deeply breathe, and feel night’s yawn:
Wind that stirs beneath the boughs,
Bringing hints of lurid growls.
09.18.19
Nathaniel West Clark 