Haunted Woods

A crisp brown leaf from the sycamore tree Silently fell to the ground It gently lay down amidst more of its kind Having landed with no hint of sound How could it know of the silence required To survive through the night in these woods I’d crunched one such leaf underfoot in my haste And fell prey to the people in hoods The moon though dim, waxing gibbous, I think Throws monochrome shades in the night Against this old oak I am helpless and tied There’s no escape, try as I might What did they mean, “That’s her gluttony sated”? No woman I see hereabout My knees feel weak as shrivelled leaves crunch And they fail as that dull moon…… goes out