Through blackened mist
and sodden earth,
The crows above shall sing.
In tune with bones
And creaking lids-
Open, the coffins spring.

A yawn, a stretch,
The vampires breathe
And look towards the moon.
The red of blood
and smell of fear-
Their instincts are in tune.

With spreading wings
Through nights they fly,
In search for easy prey-
To bite their necks
and drain them dry
Before the light of day.

As full moons sinks,
The shadow creatures
turn towards their home.
To sleep again
And wait for, yet
Another night to roam.

Jonathon Best 2009©