Seventh Century Nightlife

He had died on the moors in the night

Between the First and Second Sleep,

Of a twisted ankle

"I'll swing me cudgel and break ye brain!"

And swing away he did

But the wolves overcame him

And his bones were picked clean before dawn,

By the dogs,

Between the Second Sleep and Dawn

Darkness makes them fall about

And sleep in great heaps

On cool earthen floors,

Amidst the dogs and lice,

Only to awaken when the moon was high,

Between the First and Second Sleep,

To wander about the night.

So here lies the meaning of werewolf

Because they all became one,

Lurking in the moonlight,

Minds bent by the voices in the wind,

Confused and stumbling about

Until fatigue and the lack of light,

Ushered in the curtain of Second Sleep

And one final reprieve

From the Other Side of Day

Where, flopped in a pile of leaves,

Or collapsed in a stand of hay,

Sweet dreams could finally last now,

Well until Dawn

Learn how to get rid of ads on your poetry pages

Email Poem

Vote for this poem

Seventh Century Nightlife