Owls hoot, and bats fly blind, <br />As darkness fills these lands. <br />Spookiness, a weird kind <br />Sets trembling in the hands. <br /> <br />The moon peeps through bleak cloud, <br />To light earth’s dark domains. <br />Whistles shriek, screeching loud, <br />From distant racing trains. <br /> <br />The echoes ride the night, <br />Troubling our anxious souls. <br />Then as the skies turn bright, <br />One’s sanity patrols. <br /> <br />Why is it we feel fear, <br />When all is inky black. <br />We’re scared when things aren’t clear, <br />And nervous of attack. <br /> <br />Bats and owls have no dread, <br />When daylight fills the miles. <br />They go to sleep instead, <br />Inside their domiciles. <br /> <br /> <br />© Ernestine Northover<br /><br />Ernestine Northover<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/echoes-ride-the-night/
