Who's There Poem by Stan Petrovich

Twisting and turning
In the viable clouds
The swirling air
Came a dark mass
Casting figures
Over the square
The figures changed
And reports mounted of various descriptions of what people think they saw:
A tree, an axe,
A black demon-rider, an old tower, a harrowing canyon, a bowl of roses.
Death himself.
The town newspaper got wind of these discrepancies
And asked for more submissions.
The most popular answer was you see your most loved one,
In demise transforming,
Returning to mother earth.

And everyone was scared
Because none was prepared.