In darkness it rises from its winks;
Eyes the red of deepest crimson;
Teeth the plain white of bleached bone.
It snarls and snaps in agony;
The howling of the sea squall
Drowns out its moonlit cries.
Born of the night,
It takes to the air
In search of that which it seeks.
A lighthouse stands
Perched above a cove
Like a matchstick in unknowing tinder.
With a slight thud
It lands atop the search-light's crown.
It's the last thing you'll ever hear.