The dogs next door are watching bats.
Their pirouetting eyes are fazed,
By moon-dark nightlights glowing sparks,
By flickering wings and siren songs.
Beyond their reach the myths are spun,
From bats, to moths, to lunar casts.
Entrancing echoes bounce around.
The violet shades dragged from their dreams.
The tendrils of that other world,
Come curling from the undergrowth.
And by the nightlights dogs are turned:
They’re lantern eyed and garish hounds.
The faerie demons bite the howls:
And off they run, and how they run.