After the birth of morning
The maturity of the sun
Driving the leaves to grow
Grasses, deep and green
Reaching for the warmth

After noon's heavy heat
Siesta's come and gone
Shadow's time begins
At first, a gradual pace
Deceivingly slow

They lay in wait, watching
The sun's retreat across the sky
Falling to the Earth, coming down
Loosing its power, darkness creeping
The day trying to stretch itself long

Say your prayers on heavy breath
But not for night's stare or embrace
Head for home, bar your door
Children and wives, in pantry's store
Men behind doors, cower, the storm

Rift in time, a seam in the between
Night and day, that which comes
Slips through now, gasping for air
Creatures not of the dark or of day
Only hungry for anything, scared

Twilight creatures, neither human
Nor bear, not wolf, either some
Or both, something between
Feathered, some; tufts of fur
Defying demons, angels both

The run, fearing the heavy night
Here, not for long, just to feast
Catch stray cattle, chicken or child
A raptor from the skies
Or beast jaws wide

The heat of light, retreating
Draws them forth, eyes glinting
Small, beady and cunning
Intelligent malice minded
Chittery cries before night

Tendency to violence, panic
Sometimes sheltered, closeted
Built for speed, cornered and fright
Desperate in their time
A brief interlude, nothing right

Lust for the fresh death
A ****, they'll come together
Feast, and eat in lust
Flurry of feathers, disgust
Hair and fur, they demand

Clenched knuckles, white
On stick and stone, any weapon
A man might hold, protect the home
Thicken oaken doors, seem thin
Windows boarded, watch sun demise

Gaunt cheeks show shadowed, sunken eyes
From too many hard days near end
Always hungry, fearful work, never enough time for work and sleep
Some, drunk, heavy on spices, deep drink
Seeking solace in cups, not protection in men

This village is ******, think old women
Gathered children to hem
Little enough cloth, even for them
Living rags, less human than men
Desperate eyes, from fires and then

A blow from wind, maybe spirit or sin
Hushes hearth fires, extinguishes light
Light scratches at windows, claw
Cloying smells of dirt, **** and death
Seeps through cracks to tight to caulk

A thud on the roof, steps too heavy
Shaking the dust from the ceilings
Drifting like morning fog
A silence, the moments hang
Dread, deep seated to bone

Then the frightened scurry
Talon and claws, scramble
The whoosh and flap of wing
Heavy footed bodies rush in
With the dark, something comes

The little creatures of twilight
Flitter, chittering back to whence
Leaving small tracks, slightly
Bigger than man, maybe
One carried through, kicking

Away they go, but not all
Competing with the powers
That drew forth the deep dark
Hunted like little creatures they are
They rush back, to the seam, the cold

Men, women and children
Still away they hold, another scare
Another night, breathing silent
In fear, tears fall, like horrors
Stalking the seam, in the night