Acrobaticus

I hear no belfry tolling twilight
but still they come
weaving dreams
through late summer air
to gorge upon
a feast invisible to me
their table set above the lawn
They race to fatten up
before the winter's huddle
exacts its cruelest due
and weaklings perish
when death comes for a cuddle
driving fears it could be you
Perhaps they scoff
at days gone by
when dainty damsels
swooned in fear
to flee in grim despair
imagining a fate entangled
forever in their hair
And what of Dracula
ignoble count
who gave their kind
the mantra
of petrifying stare
that curdled blood
then witness bore
their shrinking from the light--
though none dare speak
of him
in cave
hung upside down
tonight