Another cascade poem, this one for the Daily Post prompt: phase.
At the dark phase of the moon,
Wild creatures prowl and night owls cry,
For only stars light up the sky.
Poplars whisper in the wind,
Stories of cold and bitter times,
At the dark phase of the moon.
Beneath the forest with the shades
Of things long dead and best forgot,
Wild creatures prowl, and night owls cry.
We bolt the door and shutters tight,
Against the things that haunt the dark,
For only stars light up the night.