come fading glow, vampire bats crisscross a ripe moon
silvered chimney smoke outpaces the silly, chilly moths
rushing ever upwards chasing heaven sent white light
a befitting sight worthy of the promise magic bestows
upon an otherworldly place few beings know exists
midsummer day’s spawning of the briefest obscurity
so stingy the gratuity of darkness’s deepest pockets
leaving just wafer-thin messages for the abandoned
subdued tidings of those condemned to life in limbo
no time or place for squirreled away final goodbyes
solemnized in melancholy words begging guidance
a hint of urgency shrouded back-of cautious tongues
a flock of lost sheep favouring tarmac over lush grass
time has no mercy, offers no favours when on the tail
of a sleepy sun, hell-bent on tucking itself safe and warm
beneath horizons snug blanket of guarded hallucination
a stark moorland tumour, a misshapen granite hideaway
bad luck, curiosity or wanton kidnap lead…
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Kate McClelland 
Cheers, Kate…much appreciated.
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The words conjure up many thoughts, and the image goes so well with the poem. Nice work from Mike, as usual.
Best wishes, Pete.
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indeed
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