He Owns The Night
By Rebecca BoardMoonglow bathes the trees in phosphorescent mist
while a nightingale sings his lonely song. Just there,
beyond the trees, is a clearing, a circle painted in
golden moonlight. A cloaked figure stands guard over
the darkened landscape, a silent silhouette of a
wondrous being only ever glimpsed in the shadows.
Eyes flash blue fire gazing through the darkness
in ownership of this night.