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Moonlit March

Paul Gaudette


With the drums providing rhythm,
They left the foreboding place.
The vision wore a robe of crimson
That darkened her angelic face.

The elders were in shrouds too,
Theirs pristine and hemmed,
A spiral presented on their back
For this was the tribe’s emblem.

The girl moved forward, full of grace
As the drums beat on.
When they reached the natural grotto
They seized the village’s pawn.

They halted drums, halted motion,
Halted every sound,
Except for the sensual aria of the ocean
That played while the blade came down.