The darkest hours, closer to dawn, from where great fear is drawn.
Hear the great call of the forest evil and water rage,
The sound of the great mystery beneath the rocks and the powers that lurks beneath the soil.
Tik-tok goes the old clock and you hear the sticks talk and the leaves drop one by one, rustling beneath steps of terror,
The rabbit trembles in it's burrow and the mice in it's hole. They both await the passing of the gross dark.
Dew drops, the fog. Dawn finally arrives and the magical spell of darkness is expelled at the rising of the Sun.
© immaculee-marie