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