Noontide

An echo of woe peeling wetland rows

Into the fray of dying goldenrod.

Smoldering green under a snoring tree,

Lamenting dampened flints by a hollow nod.

A frantic scene along xanthophyll leaves

Kept an eerie pace with a spirit guide.

Spectral light, silver sight,

Braving the last circle at noontide.

Crossing street, gaining the ever sleep,

By the chirts of cricket singing at wheel glide.

Oh, midnight thrills of haunting chills,

Blessed be the tales of a Hellride.

Damned, be the car, by far

It's an overgrown beast that bends.

Those dampening shapes of rooftop shingles

Foretell a date soon wrought with peril.

Where a lonely ghost hitchhikes.

Thumbing tubular trills.

Hailing the wraith for those misty gates,

Should its rider rescind the rover.