Loch Ness Monster. Poem. Mitch Montagna


In darkest lakes where spirits swim –
beneath the depth where starlight dims
a shadow deepens midnight’s tone –
and drifts through water cold as bone.
As morning breaks a mist holds still –
above the lake that sunlight fills
to find a serpent rearing high –
like a rainbow toward the sky.
The creature almost caught the breeze –
that cooled the mist and swayed the trees
as its body shone in lovely light –
that made its ancient eyes go bright.
Alas, the spirits cut it down –
and morning went without a sound
but for the saddest cry you knew –
if you were underwater too.