In Death

Death comes close in the night when shadows grow and sleep envelopes, relaxing guards who snore slumped in corners their spears and shields useless on the ground, their dinner crumbs of cheese and bread just laying there for the rats to nibble. Amid the sleepers and nibblers Death glides like a mist; oppressive and still, and dead leaving a taste, a scent, an air of such an otherness. The rats scurry off and the sleepers shift within their dreams caught, held and slowly suffocated till the last breath of Life is gone... Then what does Death do? The old shapeshifter wakes and puts on the face of day. (first published in my 4th book of poems BEGINNER'S MIND, 2019)