The Traveller

By Sarah McCarthy

Lost under patchwork shadows

What pale moonlight seeks some lonely path to guide

The distant way to nowhere

And what gentle gust stirs crisp leaves

Dancing with dry autumn grasses

Sway

What solitary bird melts into the sky

A blot on a black canvas

What ominous shapes loom in the distance

Twisted silhouettes

Sharp against the faded skyline

And lost under patchwork shadows

The Traveller moves on