Impressions of a Windy Night

Low, leaden hills slip away,
Creatured, cold gloom rises,
Paints a belladonna sky again-
Buoyed by the magic might of night.

Quick and quiet are abroad,
Searching with stealth the shadows,
Slipping away from the glow,
Picking the pockets of proud fools.

Cobweb whispers of the unsafe
Cling to the wind’s brisk breath.
Briny bright the bristling sea surges
And owls hold court with the moon.

The wind baying with whipping wand
Strikes hawthorn, hazel and ash-
Now a black mass of cackling hags
Delighting in the dread of folk.

The crisp cries of a fox
Rip away a sudden silence...
Then all is awe again,
Tuned to the turn of the firmament.