The Tranquil Garden

The hanging basket,

Worn and well used swung slowly,

Like cheerful monkeys.

The quaint smell of roses,

The blissful buzzing of bees,

All seems serene here.

And strolling through now,

Glancing at the chestnut trees,

I’m calm and unnerved.

The happy frogs leap,

Fish swim lazily below,

An unwelcome thought.

The pond skaters glide,

As a dragonfly zooms forth,

A snap of a tongue.

The tweet of sparrows,

The yellowhammer’s chirping,

Dried blood on the grass.

The gleaming greenhouse,

Its dragon fruit shining proud,

The shards of glass strewn.

Ancient sundial,

Bright moss growing around it,

The unknown marking.

Scarpering lizards,

An adder basking in warmth,

Chipped fragments of bone.

A warm summer breeze,

Accompanied by the light,

Brings nothing but chills.

The large hawthorn hedge,

Its bulk telling of decades,

And hiding something.

A raven above,

Its shrill cries and dark presence,

Foreboding of death.

Panic setting in,

The squeal of a red squirrel,

The birds stop singing.

The old rockery,

Now home to a pair of moles,

Shows cracks left by strength.

Uncanny silence,

A haunting togetherness,

Some mouse’s neck is snapped.

The sprinting of deer,

And the quick fox who hunts them,

From a ghastly scream.

Turning the corner,

A mangled corpse lies shattered,

Entrails everywhere.

I lurk in the dark,

As he’s enveloped by fear,

His dread, my delight.

While horror sets in,

I observe from the shadows,

Terror tangible.

Peering around now,

Darkness clouds the horizon,

Am I being watched?