As patient soldiers,
stood along the darkened avenue.
Voiceless figures.
Anonymous masses.
The wiry moon threw strands of light across their shadow ridden pathway.
The midnight forest called them on.
Nocturnal angels.
Hiding in supporting roots.
Cavity in concealment.
As if ragamuffins on the run.
Grubby and bedraggled.
Distant watchers observe from perimeter.
The tawny one doth serenade the unwanted visitors.
And so they run.
(c) Livvi