-- Night of the Panther --

By John Herlihy

The darkness of the night reigned supreme,

All of the other senses their forces gleaned.

The wind uttered mysteries whispered aloud,

Haunted ghosts in the folds of night’s shroud.

Night birds rode the wind on blackened wings,

Night critters buzzed softly as the cricket sings.

The night moved imperiously on panther tread,

As a panther, its paws touched silently instead.

Still, in the darkness, the world full of wonder,

A heightened four senses its richness plunder.

Stretch one’s nostrils to sniff most exotic smells,

To savor all of the aromas this cornucopia tells.

Spice flavor of clover, the biting smell of smoke,

Rain smell of clouds descends in ermine cloak.

The bitter-sweet scents of orange and lime groves,

All the perfumes of Arabia roam freely in droves.

When God created night, he commanded wind,

To bow in His presence, its vast forces to rescind.

The wind reduced its force down to a gentle breeze,

Knowing it had no choice lest its Lord to displease.

As much as wind played in the trees and run riot

The wind now reined in, uncharacteristically quiet

“Í wish to create a noble creature, drawn from thee,

A creature to roam the night that no one will see.”

The wind looked about started, as if a thing to see,

Knowing full well it always felt but never clearly seen.

“Your Exalted Majesty,” the wind intoned in exultation,

Knowing full well in God’s tone no sense of reprobation.

“I will breathe a spirit with surety of speed,” wind replied.

“Á diablo of darkness that the night has always implied.”

Finally, with a final puff of wind, added as an after-thought,

“To be true to Your desire in tribute to all You have wrought.”

When the day next departed and the night did arrive,

The wind descended from celestial realms to survive.

On the winds’ back rode the panther with yellow eyes,

Staring into the darkness of night with no compromise.

The panther breathless, leaving behind the angelic horde,

Flaming eyes piercing the darkness as points of a sword.

No mountains, valleys, rivers, only clouds to ride through,

To soar thru the blackened night that no one ever knew.

The darkly mysterious panther, now a creature of the night,

A creature born of the night wind to ride the eternal night.

Shards of moon light wrote signatures in the fluid ink of night;

The glossy coat of the panther shone silver stilettoes of fright.

To fleet thru golden hills and winding rivers draped in black,

Dense jungles and arid plains in darkness without a track.

Ride swift on the back of the night wind in phantom delight,

Ever fleeting, ever untraceable, as stealthy as a thief in flight.

There, like the wind, the panther with the yellow eyes goes;

How he came to be born, no one remembers, no one knows.

As black as blackest night, as invisible as the clearest day,

As fleet as the fleetest wind, as statuesque as a stallion bay.

If you ever come to meet him on a jungle path, do take care;

One look, he will pierce you thru, without a moment to spare.

The warrior panther roams the dark Netherlands of the night,

Lost to the world, riding the wind, gleaming eyes yellow bright.

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(c) John Herlihy 23 October 2018