Skies Black 3 – A poem by Ralph Connolly

 

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photo by Ralph Connolly

Skies black

Moon old

 

 Flame light

Edge bright

 

 Shadows leap

 Quick the blade

Harsh the cry

Spark-quick

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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