Sounds are metamorphed by fear, and trolls grind
their teeth with the bones of a butchered hind.
Such are the thoughts that will not let you sleep
when silence paints the visions of the blind.
The bravest have the coward souls of sheep
huddled together against the threats that creep
along the curtained edge of sight, all foul
and full of fang, waiting for their hour to leap.
Can you hear the footfalls of those that prowl
the wood? Can you see the unblinking owl
whose midnight eyes scour the darkened grass
while things unseen let loose the hunter’s howl?
A haunt of fear, a shriek of broken glass
a gorgon with her talons polished brass
takes full possession of the hunted mind
and will not let the creature’s madness pass.