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.