Silent Pool (Poetry)

No track runs near, the pathway veers
away as if to shun the place
where bracken screens the pool’s dark dreams
and light dissolves to leave no trace

upon the water’s lidded curve —
no ripple breaks, no ghost awakes
the enigmatic liquid nerve
as spirits sleep, long-drowned and deep.

The silence broods, its morbid moods
deny forgiving rays of sun,
a stand of trees forbids the breeze
that shivers as the shadows run

like thin grey messengers of dread
along the bank where nettles rank
their musty gangs of stinging heads
grown thick and tall, dissuading all

who might disturb with naive words
the haunted air hung taut with fear,
while instincts guess from such distress
that something tragic happened here.