Posting the 29th made me remember writing this. It was spawned by the word "bootless" and the fact that it does not, in fact, mean "without footwear." And by that one shoe on the side of the road.



That Which Runs The Night Roads

By morning’s light, where high roads cross
beneath the signpost standard,
a relic of fear and wonder lies
again, lost, strayed, abandoned.

The reluctant eye of each passerby
is drawn, they see and shudder,
then each as quickly looks away
lest that fate befall the observer.

What sort of creature can this be
that preys on hapless travelers?
What stealth, what swift and silent guile,
what strength, to seize such plunder

and take a man with no outcry,
no blot or stain as evidence,
leave only the mute, sad, single shoe
to prove the traveler’s existence?

Where bides the beast by light of day
never glimpsed, nor heard, nor scented?
What otherworld hides it from men’s eyes
while it waits for dark, unrepented?

Into what realm is the wayfarer snatched
unawares, in what dark abroad,
with naught but the clothes he stands in
bootless and half-shod?
.

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