On a dark and stormy night

by

Passing with a death grip ghost trees that light the path;
seven sisters dance above with a mocking contempt tainted by fear
always watching the big man to the south and he raises his sword
and drinks deeply; the try to lead the traveler astray
but fixed and rigidly conscientious the driver will skid on home
under the watch of the trees that knew her foremothers yesterday.