The stygian scene greets me at three,
Blinded by darkness, I slog to see.
Raven hills bellow, roars the red sea,
Silhouettes dance under the gnarled tree.
Hisses and hoots prowl the thicket free,
As the charred branches close in on me.
Not a soul in sight to hear my plea,
Till the webbed light runs a fresh decree.