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Night Hunters
On a stony cold night,
The sun long since set,
Pitch-black skies calcify.
All natural light surrendered,
To a cloak of enigmatic cloud,
Guarding the silver white moon.
Hark, a startling hoot is heard,
Above, the beat of a feathered wing.
As the night hunters prowl,
Shrouded by the opaque night,
An unforeseen breeze bows in,
Forcing the clouds to advance,
Sanctioning the moon’s splendour.
Obscurities shrouded in mystery,
Silhouetted branches arise.
Like skeletal elongated limbs,
Reaching to claw at the sky.
Now the night hunters hasten to hide,
Depths of the shadows a safe lair,
While the moon beams are pure.
