Once the sun cannon balls in the horizon,
clouds block the titanium stars
eclipsing glitter in their twinkle
like trapping fireflies in brass capped jars

naked feet splash in the boneyard runnel
camouflaged by thick plumes of fog
and the barn owl choir hoots a song
eyeing the water rats on the driftwood log

moonbeams add the glow in the tree line
tossing shadows over the night
as she scouts for the squatters
her sword blade reflecting platinum light.