Sleek raps with skeletal fingers

Mad winds shriek demonic songs

Darkness swoops on monster wings

devouring the light.

Like some Druid princess

Robed in ancient dread

I tremble at the waning day

And look at autumn's ebb.

Lacking mistletoe or holly

With which to bar the door

At my meager hearth I kneel

To invoke a spark with prayer.

Turned pagan by my terror

I search the fire's narrow eye

And beseech whatever gods there be

To keep the sun alive.