Skies Black 3 – A poem by Ralph Connolly



photo by Ralph Connolly

Skies black

Moon old


 Flame light

Edge bright


 Shadows leap

 Quick the blade

Harsh the cry


Silver quick

Iron cold


 Fear, flight

 Moon light

Blood bright


 Branches lash, thorns flay

Hot the trail

Huntsman, Prey


 Onward and inward

Into the Wildwood

Deepwood, Darkwood


 Feet pound, flames fade

Cool dark stillness

Shadows engulf 


Wound mortal

Crimson flow

Thirsty the moss

Breath slows


 Life ebbs

Body cools

Deepwood, Wildwood

Dark embrace


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