Firnham Wood

Firnham Wood The day dawned bright with autumn gold where slits of light cut through the wold, bright flowers stood. A blessing rang of bird and song as waters lapped the while along by Firnham Wood. At length red flame turned indigo the moon appeared a distant glow where blackness fell. In shifting shades of eerie light that pressed the silence of the night, a lonely bell. There in the pitch of midnight dark reflecting on the hoary bark, a flickered flame. As to and fro it cast about grotesque gyrations that standout, in this time-frame. When shadows take on shades of life and sounds are tremblings of strife, so we believe. No other date within the year can fill the darkness with such fear, All Hallows Eve. Now homeward bound, the church-bell rings, caught by a draft it once more swings in dawn's grey light. That cast off cigarette burned slow, the fire it lit, a furtive glow, to all, goodnight.