NIGHTSONG

The night
wild womb of madness
calls me to the treeline
beyond the field
impenetrable
to moonlight
or reason

A spring
hidden from day’s despair
deep inside frees thoughts
to tumble playful
quenching
earth’s thirst
for chos

In dreams
I run there solitary
fearless though blind
impassioned
the taste of
blood in
my mouth

JoAnn Thacker

http://bathroompoet.net