Shadows

Quatrain
Haiku
Blank Verse
Enclosed Rhyme
Acrostic
*Written for a contest
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Seven riders flee across the dusty plain,
With star sprinkled sky hanging low above.
Their black horses scatter to a hawk's V-train,
As the frontman raises silently his glove.

Cool wind whisks quickly
The air whooshes in a stream
He points straight ahead

Appears a horseman 'yon gloved finger's mark,
Pixilating in the rippling moonlight.
His white steed rears but does not ride,
His cape billows silver, fiercely bold.

Seven riders reign in slow to form a barrier,
Circling the white mirage as he twists about.
Frontman raises his glove with palm held out,
Down flies a feathered friend; faithful harrier.

Softly treads the frontman forward,
Hounds slinking by his horse's hocks.
A silence stirs and then a gasp,
Disappears - both black and white!
Oh, that the frontman did not near,
With glove hand raised in grave salute...
Six riders would not flee tonight, across a dusty plain.