Darkness blooms

behind tangled branches

A hush echoes into the night

as the stag tentatively

treads into the pale moonlight

 

He lingers,

treacherously exposed,

open to creatures of shadow

lurking behind emerald conifers

their sharp teeth ready for ripping

 

Putting faith into instinct

he plunges into the light

frantically searching

for a desolate

sense of calm

 

Only to find

he is the object

of all cruel intentions,

The source of tonight’s amusements

For he shall become one with wicked darkness