All Hallow's Eve, Transylvania

Pastures slant up, t'ward black-brow'd mountain
peaks;
Late in the year, farmers weave haystacks tight;
Then when a globe moon drifts up seas of night,
Windows bar shut. No one of menace speaks,
But though the rich don silks, dance late, and
watchers wait
While horses drowse, poor men haste, shutting
doors.
All day they've work'd at winter's needful
stores;
But with the moon's rise, shadows vast in length
Cast talons over farmstead, var, stone inn;
Ravens fly thick, beating with noisy wings;
Bats emerge, hurtling silent; tiny things
Crouch terrifi'd--mice, rabbits, yes; and men--
Waiting a coming danger. Staring far,
They feed on tales of whisper'd horrors; stars
Shiver as great wings pass--Lord Dracula!

by Robert David Michael (Cerello)