Thought I heard the Highwayman
was that him galloping by?
Or only thunder’s hoof beats
through the dark moor sky?

Pausing at the casement window
night dampness fogged my breath.
Below the moor lay silent, most
creatures were at rest.

With childish giggles I’d scampered
over this moor’s ferns and rocks.
Those childhood memories help diffuse
adult tragedies, twists and shocks.

Drawing my nightclothes to me
I turn to Levi’s on the bed.
Tomorrow we would return to prairies
hearing coyote calls instead.

~ J.E. (Quantz) Dyrholm ~
[ Poem Back-drop ]