Shadowy figures soar through the desolate night
gliding with wings, sleek as the haunting winter breeze,
prowling through the darkness,
giving no mercy to the sick and weary.
Landing on crowded branches overhead,
the figures multiply like viruses,
gathering in a council of rotating heads and monstrous eyes.
an endless canopy of hungry predators
waiting to dart at any small movement below,
to ravage the forest like a plague and
plunder the souls of fearful creatures.
They are a Congress of savages,
a Parliament of owls—
just feathery politicians discussing their next kill,
apex predators of the long night.
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