Misty mornings, foggy days
Walking in the shadowed haze
All is quiet, eerie, strange.
Fleeting shadows out of range.
What things linger in the fog?
Do I see the red eyed dog?
Panic slithers up my spine.
I inhale the musty scent of pine.
Silence breaks, a lone crow call
to his murder come one come all.
He shrieks a warning dangers near
His sudden flight brings back my fear.
That primevil dread that we all face
when we,re in a creepy place
I hurry now to clear the trees,
A shadow moves and then I freeze
What was the shade that I just saw
lingering on the misty moor?
Scent of heather stings my nose
misty damp clings to my clothes.
I see those eyes glow in the fog
Rising from the dreaded bog,
I don't know what lingers there
what spirit ruffles through my hair.
but now I see some light ahead
It shimmers brave and lifts my dread
I force my feet towards the light
The mist is bad but I dread the night.
Onwards now, I stumble ahead
trying to outrun this fearful dread
Faster, faster almost there
I reach my gate and stop and stare
Into the swirling clinging fog
Was there really a red eyed dog?
Somewhere out there waiting to bound
out from hell like the Baskerville hound.
JKS October 2015
