Image by Francis Barlow [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons-"Wolf in Sheep's Clothing"
In the mid of night
the house breathed.
Thick with rattled windows-
anxiety like shadows,
stale rooms heavy, dense-
and then it began.
Rolling down the street,
wolves roam in the ally
the howling chorus rises,
under sheepskin blankets.
Rapping on walls,
whispering through the cracks.
Rattling cages,
trembling fingers
on passive leaves.
Branches snap-
the final straw drawn, is it over,
the weak have fallen.
Calculating the after-math,
identify the drifter in the dark,
a faceless fictive fright,
who mocks the meticulous gardener,
who taunts and terrifies the innocent children,
who are anxiously counting sheep.
