[NightHawk]: 105.NightHawk's Poetry Index.Ingeloshouk

Ingeloshouk

The moon crosses the sky,
They come out to play,
"Who are they?" one asks,
As they frolic at night,
Long, pointed ears, and wings of pitch black,
Flying and swooping as the moon shows its face,
Mysteries unfolded, tales are told,
All in the day of the Midnight Wings.