The Swirling Tides of Night
Dusk falls heavily
In creeping silence
Dark shadows
Painting deep
Inky pools
Of ebony
Yawning chasms
Of emptiness
Etched upon
The fleeing day
Trees tremble
Branches grasping
At the last of the light
Transforming
Into what they fear
Whispering
Sibilant
In the swirling tides
Of night
© Ann Bagnall 2016
