Freeverse: Witching Hour
Yonder rises the moon—
Watch it climb higher;
And the forest nymphs
Climb up to their highest towers;
While the wolves quietly shed their shadows;
When the moon silently takes her throne.
The wind starts to sing
A wicked hymn; Hark now—
Blowing up from the forest floors,
Rippling caresses over still lakes,
Conversing with winged mists,
And cackling in the fallen leaves.
It's witching hour now;
Hark the wolves howling;
The shadows have quit their hideaways
And taken over all and everything.
A strange humming issues forth—
Your ears catch every quiver
Of every dried leaf,
And every squirrel in the trees.
Tis the witching hour;
Join the witches and make magic;
There is power in words,
Weave yourself a dreamcatcher
With nothing but ink
And watch your nightmares squirm;
Tangled up, and ruined
Mere words, their undoing.
Fear not the clawing branches;
Scratching at your window pane—
They're only here as audience ;
Silent as your screaming pain.
Tis a night when every pen
Will bleed black onto white pages;
Oh pin down your terrors
And your secret shame;
Noone will watch you—
You are alone,
The world sleeps none the wiser—
You are safe
And so all your secrets.