Dark shadows move, fro and twain,
From twin heights that tower, merging into one.
Center your delight 'neath the far flung moon
Curved in crescent hook that lights the vale.
Breathe smoky spheres that quiver like anxious tendrils,
Fruit of the vine ripened to a sweetness sickn'd,
the weight of breath falls slow.
And trepidatious,
The twigs that shake and shamble, twitch and snap,
'Neath the dewy growth, impatient and unworthy,
The flash of lust and danger, now, a fear, instills.