By The Blood Moon

 


He looks up in wonder and howls to the blood moon

a low growl emanates deep within his parched throat 

A chorus of stomach grumbles since a wasted afternoon 

Aroused in the scented evening meal of roasted goat

He continues to search as reddened eyes begin to blur

Desperation steals his faltering will to slowly carry on

Guided by the harvest moon as night creatures begin to stir

 His frantic search for what he needs begins to wan

Frozen by the sudden calling of her voice across the farmer's field 

She will incapacitate him- of this certainty he does know

His body quakes as his tired haunches begin to yield

Hairs stand like spikes at the mocking silhouetted scarecrow 

A mist begins to crawl like snakes through long grasses 

"Why are you slinking on your hands and knees?" she yells 

"Cause I lost my gol darn brand new prescription glasses!" 

Behold Autumnal turning with dark deeds and witchy spells



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