Day 29 of 30 Days of Poetry

Across the fields they fly,
Fleet shadow wraiths unseen
By stolid human eye.
Yet keener souls divine:
Dogs bark a herald cry
Then cower with a whine.
Foul spirits of the night
Round my lost soul entwine,
All summoned to my plight.
The candle flame burns lean,
Its feeble dying light
Faint hope to stand between.