The Night Watch-ers

 

The Night Watch-ers … Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBark Poet

 

Peeping from’ neath their velvet cloaks, black gimlet eyes appeared

and painted faces slow emerged it seems they were not feared

by the intrusion to their place of man who walked erect,

they hung suspended from the tree’s branches as we expect.

 

Beneath them, ivy clad stone walls gave out the heat of day

that no doubt kept them somewhat warm – most wished they’d fly away

for fruit bats are malodorous and messy little blighters

who venture forth as dusk creeps in like tiny black stealth fighters.

 

A snapping crackling sound was heard from the roaring log fire.

The burble hiss as water roiled a thirst now did inspire.

Above a moon sailed gallantly over the dark ridged clouds

and somewhere, soft a boobook called far from the maddening crowds.

 

The mass of velvet moved and surged upon its night time roost

as if a single entity some maiden would seduce

and little squeaks and clucks emerged with sometimes a slight flutter

as soft wings whispered in a syncopated velvet stutter.

 

The long man was not once perturbed – his shadow came and went.

He rolled his swag out by the fire; he’d no need of a tent

the night was calm and balmy, and this bloke knew the bush well.

There was no ring around the moon – and of rain not a smell.

 

Peeping from under velvet cloaks, black gimlet eyes appeared.

Small furry faces slow emerged and at the man they peered.

But all was calm and all was right – they settled ‘neath moonlight

and so did he beside the fire he’d banked down for the night.