(The Tarr Steps are a stone slab bridge in England that is over a thousand years old. According to legend, the Devil sunbathes there, and a cat vaporized there once..he he..no cats harmed in the writing of this)
When moonlight flies full, water runs colder,
the stars ashine o’er angelic shoulder,
the rocks lie sans comfort, soothing troubled
thoughts of God’s enlightened cast-off double.
Illumned sunbathing, Devil’s joyous flight
to realms sublime and Heaven purified.
For what compares with solitude’s blissful still
save waters’ running under call of whippoorwill?