`Ever laid under the gleaming stars?
Watched with awe on a moon-lit night
walked through the woods in pitch darkness
heard her screech, a barn owl in flight.
A silent flight on spread out wing
so quiet you do not hear a sound
and then at once her voice is there
you`re wide awake, hear your heart pound.
Still walking on in dead of night
a tow-path weaves under arched bridge
bats fly with speed the tunnel dark
first underneath then over ridge.
Like mice with wings, vampires, some fear
a high pitch squeal, oh what a fright
get in your hair and won`t let go?
Or mere catching insects at night?
Back in the trees and through the dark
a curdling screech in dead of night
a being in torment it`s said
will make the timid cringe with fright.
So eerie is this squeal, so creepy
the unaware will taste the fear
a haunting sound, an evil note
though the devil himself is near.
But if you want to know the truth
stroll in the woods at dead of night
catch a glimpse at the hour so late
the wily young fox under moonlight.
Filling his lungs to let it out
stretching his chords to call a mate
warding off kind who dare intrude
Guarding his own like an iron gate
But can you be sure what’s out there?
Does everything seem to be right?
Is it just the wind rustling?
or is something lurking in the night?
© D Marsden 2019
Dave's blog 