Lord Of The Forest

A hunter’s moon shimmers
watchful eye that sees all
acting as a beacon for
The Lord of The Forest
who perches in bracken throne

Wind picks up
whispering cries of peasants
snuffling around in kingdom
overgrown with lichen and holly

The lord tilts his head
listens to his subjects
squeaking, grunting, chittering
such a small, noisy folk

Horned crown weighs heavy
golden-eyed thrill
feast seeking
hungry for satisfaction

Regal wings spread
against the curtain of night
surveying trees standing
as unmovable sentries

A hare scurries from the undergrowth
the lord plunges,
grey-streaked death
guillotine dropped

Off with the heads
of all who run
by the lord’s decree

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