in the still of the night

I’ve walked this path many times

the soft trill of a lonely toad

or the midnight hoot of a regal owl

…

in the still of the night

…

a comfort to me

a tender, loving serenade

my footfalls spare and light

till the poor toad's singing stops

the owl hushed

a branch snapping the only sound

…

in the still of the night

…

the moon’s glabrous face

lit my way a moment before

retreats behind an angry cloud

the once familiar path

no direction now gives

when fear begins to tickle

…

in the still of the night

…

maybe a shortcut

was not such a good idea after all

my breath held tight

my feet slowing, heart racing

my steps making

little sound at all

…

in the still of the night

…

but whatever follows

keeps its own counsel

with spectral, silent watch

while I crouch low

that my pursuer may grow bored

and by me slowly pass

…

in the still of the night

…

but it proves too quiet

the air emptied of sound

gasping for each breath

while fear in hateful silence climbs

I press a hand to my mouth

to keep from crying out

…

in the still of the night

…

till in desperation I move forward

while some real or imagined fiend

close behind yet follows

a second branch breaking

and I fall, the ground so near

I hear worms chewing the soil

…

in the still of the night

…

what is this fear I cannot shake

what demonic vice

I still hold dear

prowls behind

its feral, hot breath

reviving remembered fright

…

in the still of the night

…

a forsaken child abides

yet in my breast

I cannot placate his fear

nor wish away

the evil that

visited him in his bed

…

in the still of the night

…

for then I must name it

and give it human face

rather than a shade I yet race

…

in the still of the night….