The air carries the faint sound
of an angel's frantic whispering,
as he watches
the star-dappled ghost walker
swiftly drifting over the sky-lined mountains and trees.
The far off voices of the wind-talkers encompass the night
with their tales of love and terror.
His tail flicks as he runs,
caressing the air with the most graceful uneveness.
His feet are opposed to the ground
refusing to make contact as he strides across the death-strewn moss.
The moon looks down, pale and afraid for this creature,
this shadow.
The skies begin to open, and they shed their tears for this moment.
A tree flinches in the pain of claws piercing its flesh,
but it does not resist, in hopes of redemption.
170 pounds of the wind huddle on the highest limb,
with teeth bared, and duel fires watching the forms below,
as they bellow, and martyr his position.
Far off the eerie scream of a young girl is heard,
as a gun fires,
a bullet pierces
a heart stops,
and a ghost's shadow falls to the ground.
Motionless,
it is finished,
when the last tears fall.
Tears so sharp the sky is torn
when the cougar cries.
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Submission Name: When the cougar cries.
