The Marsh
Then huddled close within their hut
A storm brewing, dark and harsh
Wind howling all about
On the edges of the marsh

No light from moon or stars to see
Twas no night to be out
When cross the darkened, wind swept land
They swore they heard a shout

A shrill and piercing, pleading wail
Cut sharply through the night
They huddled closer now
With both a look of fright

Who would venture to this place
What fool would take the risk
The wind increased with anger
Each gust now hard and brisk

Then at the dappled window
Obscured by tattered lace
For just a fleeting moment
They glimpsed a child's face

The horror on his face was clear
The story told was true
For others spoke of such a thing
Or just a terrified few.

Comments:
 
frederic   frederic wrote
on 10/4/2009 5:29:40 PM
I seem to remember this one. Did you post it on poetrypoem.com? Excellent evocation of an eerie setting. I like poems like this one that rely on the ambiguity of an image, like the child. Man's soul has ventured too far in life. We've reached a threshold of human terror.

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