The dark forest looms ahead
Ghostly greens lay like blankets hiding
Things that move unseen,
Spanish moss hangs cobweb-like
Draped like a funeral shroud,
The eyes watch silently high in trees
As crows caw brings it’s fear and mystery,
And the hawk screeches as it take flight
Grasping at the movement in the night.
A scurry here I do not know,
But see the open spaces waiting
Like a den or lair for the hunters snare,
I don’t go in
I do not dare.
There is evil here on this stretch of road,
Where muddy wallows lay empty and waiting
For gleaming eyes to rise from below
In swamps murky and covered with moss and slime
Something moves and the goosebumps rise,
The hound stays close and gazes in
At something foreign and sinister,
We move past quickly,
No time to waste
As the rustling comes closer
Perhaps were too late.
Just a little thought on the creepy spaces between yards down here where I imagine the monsters and slithery creatures tucked away waiting to jump out and scare….all in fun, the hounds are prepared.