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Shadows in The Queen’s park.

They come out after dark.

That appears and disappear

amongst the leaves and the barks.

Shuffling and rustling in the bushes,

and beside King George’s land mark.

Husstling and bustling by the singing larks.

Covert meetings

behind tree-trunks

without leaving any marks.

Appearing after dust,

and disappearing at dawn.

What the hell is going on!

Night crawling magicians at full moon.

Appearing in the starlight,

and disappearing in the sunlight.

Leaving an empty peaceful park.

I know it’s not the squirrels.

I checked there nest,

and they were resting,

all asleep after dark.

Legal Poet

Wayne Ferron . All rights reserved @copyright