I saw him there, beneath the eaves
Standing with the dark
And although he made no move, nor sound
His presence there was stark

He was much like a wilting pane
His body cloaked in guile
I saw the turning of his face
The weeping in his smile

Entrenched there ‘low the jutting eaves
Ebbing with the wane
He then began towards the door
Jigging as he came

More a seize than jig, I’d say
Though it barely sought a word
A shuddering, a stuttering
But not a sound I heard

That fluxing smile stayed his face
As when he reached the door
And pondered for one awful breath
To motion with his claw

Gone inside and left my sight
I felt I too must go
If just to prove this vision false
To my senses dulled and slow

Inside I heard a shattering,
A shuddering, a blow
A muttering, a jittering
A shriek, but soft and low

I passed the door and by the hearth
Its embers bright and warm
And heard a sound pass in the ground
Like iron bees in swarm

Standing in the living room
He shuddered to and fro
As if the lights were flickering
And I too rapt to know

Upon the floor around the room
The bodies of some few
I shuddered as I took them in
He shuddered with me too