It’s the first day of May. People are planting flowers, taking nature hikes, enjoying the sunshine, planning picnics, and putting up umbrellas. While I do crave the sunshine and desire its warmth upon my skin, I also find myself looking for those sun rays in dark pockets of trees and wonder what is now hiding away in the shadows.
I walk where twilight holds its breath,
Between the worlds of life and death,
Where witches sing to moons half-grown
And cryptid kings reclaim their throne.
Mothman watches from the trees,
Eyes like coals in midnight’s breeze.
He knows my name. I feel his stare
Like static charging in the air.
The bats, my darlings, dusk’s delight,
Are flying puppies of the night.
They flit and dance in velvet skies,
Nocturnal stars with beating cries.
I bloom beneath the blazing sun
But when the golden day is done
I wrap myself in shadow’s grace
And find a truer, softer place.
I hear the chime of music boxes
Floating faint through dream-worn clocks,
A lullaby the spirits play
When memory outlives the day.
They linger just beyond my sight,
A flicker left, a whisper right.
They do not speak, but still I know
Their pain, their peace, the undertow.
There’s something thrumming in the air
That speaks to me, though nothing’s there.
Not seen, not touched, but always known
Like roots that wrap around my bones.
I am the stillness in the trees,
The midnight breath, the haunted breeze.
The night adores me, lets me see
What others fear … sets me free.
