Stealthy serpentine night
rivers of darkness
coiled and waiting
in its cold heavy mist
silent and slithering
its sibilant whispers
are like ice in my soul
it is the hunter
I am the prey
it keeps its secrets
yet lets its veil fall
for mere seconds
its hissing revealing
its presence
as the dawn rises
her warmth
too much to bear
and the night
slithers like a snake
back into the shadows
a brief moment of peace
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 