Cloak and Talon (ORIGINAL)

A villanelle about the darkness of night.

We are the depression of violet color in the moon-cloak night

Fallen slowly. It is left to the stars to resurrect owl eye flickers 

To maintain the lightning bug wing flaps caught as a shiny kite.

 

Haven of the beyond-dusk is home to a chilly air sprite

Who marauds the crickets. We are the lost in pictures.

We are the depression of violet color in the moon-cloak night,

 

The remains of a bewitched hour. Prowlers take flight

Land upon the lone home. Its wind-met wall shutters

To maintain the lightning bug wing flaps caught as a shiny kite.

 

Yet it is we, who through a hooded bird of prey’s smite

of a hare, that our purpose is known. We are what death measures,

We are the depression of violet color in the moon-cloak night.

 

Together our darkness hides the hunter and bringers of fright.

In unison with the clouds we shut out the stars with hazy covers.

To maintain the lightning bug wing flaps caught as a shiny kite

 

We allow Earthen illumination but banish the starlight.

So hide if you are prey to the birds, back into your burrows.

We are the depression of violet color in the moon-cloak night

To maintain the lightning bug wing flaps caught as a shiny kite.