In Fields of Attrocities Past

In a place called Wester Ross An area in the Highland Glens Lie fields of atrocities past That deter the bravest of men It all happened so long ago On a bleak dreach winters night A few farmers were staggering home Until they stepped in, out of the light For on this night in December The darkness take to the skies They fly in circles of seek Plundering the livings eyes What sets them off on this carnage By the greying beams of the moon Is a coven of darkening beauties In death they pick their groom Tied like decrepit scarecrows An invitation they now become The circling hoards of black In gliding dark he succumbs The last visions their eyes do see In the presence of darkened skies The image within their bodies Skeletal in their die Their ceremony absorbs what little Light that escapes their dark Lie fallow fields in the morning Another community left in stark She now stands in black attire As if in mourning of her loss This is they way the coven married In a place called Wester Ross http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/dark-6.php