Red Cap


The gloaming fell,
A soft and subtle mantle,
A mist obscuring all,
A sheath that set the light away.

The gloaming fell,
Savage grim intent,
That fended off the light,
And kept its golden blades at bay.

The gloaming fell,
With trees subdued and stilled,
The forest fauna safe,
In bolts and dens secured.

The gloaming fell,
Yet one dark shadow lingered still
And prowled beneath the bowered hill,
And watched, in wait,
For what it knew would come.

The gloaming fell,
Its shadow too was fell and foul,
And had not foundered once,
For all the many ages
Long since past in which it prowled
To follow gloaming’s geas,
And keep the task it had been set.

The gloaming fell,
Its shadow just as grim,
Red its eyes,
Cold its heart
Sharp its teeth,
Its task to guard this sacred glade,
And keep the hag that slumbered there
Away from magic’s bane,
The light of day,
And what that light might wreak.

Along a path remote, a route neglected,
Lost to most, that led inside the forest,
From edge of Urban sprawl,
Dressed in heels and porting Prada bag,
Her hair just so, the woman walked
With steady step, an Apple in her bag
Red cape about her shoulders.

© Greg Richards
Part 1 of my “Red Cap” Chapbook

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