Pale Lady Moon Poem by Paddy J. P. Harris

I trust not this night, it has no restful peace.
The searching gusts of unquiet spirits roam,
Pawing the skins of dream sleeping beasts
And making a fire in hunting eyes to glow,
Unquenched until on throbbing flesh they feast.
And who is it that drives those souls? I know.
It’s her on high, that pale lady moon.
She fools me not, though hid behind thin clouds.
Her whispers are what make the wind to croon
And trees to hiss, chilling the blood of the proud.