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
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010
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