Hawks of the Night

Hawks of the night

Terror of the hours that go without light

Prey upon, they do,

Each and ev'ry, oh that loathsome few.

Keep keen your ear, your sight, and your smell

For with each coming evening they escort ever more down to hell

Guard safe your door and make fast  your ways

For those who do not, they feel their pain.

They are the stealth of the air

the whispers that flit and flicker from here and to there

But a vapor - is their presence a mystery of designed intent?

From tree to tree and from sky to earth, their methods are without relent

Guard safe your door, and make fast your ways

For they are all about, or nowhere at all?

The Hawks of the night pit and play,

As though from below they recieve their call.