• Sunlight rises, then fades, breaking way to dust. Lights flicker, dim, and dismiss as dusk narrows its eyes, rearing its black horns to the moon, calling it, asking for its time of night. Answering, comes pale shine, the moon glowers down, bright as that of an eye hiding way in shadow, its new away by many a phase. Wolves howl below in welcome, signaling the start of the cricket crescendo. Fire flies light their torches, making touch and go as they float on unseen highways. Cats prowl the dim, searching ever so for a resting beast worthy of their time and fang. Heart beats slow, all around as sounds of day flip way to the moon’s time. Creatures of black wing and heart crawl the wood in the new of night. Eyes alight to the moon’s right, they approach unseeing minds and set maw to throat in all-too-quick a motion. They that never saw the maw of the creature of black wing and heart, let go soul and praise, and wither- unknowing of their ends. Awaken on death they rise to the skies, and past the moon that brought there end. But come hours of darkness, prevails the sun, lighting each shadow and pool of black to beacons of dancing shine, twice, thrice that of the moon's. Hearts beat fast in the knowledge of living, aware of all ill will and goodness, knowing that, around the corner- even in the bright of the sun, a creature of the moon perhaps lurks, waiting for the howls of the wolves, the crescendo of the crickets, the lit torches of the fire flies, and the prowls of the cats. Then, and only then, will the creatures of black wing and heart make move on they that sleep under the thrice-cut light of the moon. Then, and only then, when hearts slow and all think safety is at heart will they strike, and the souls will rise to the moon that watches their end.