One step ago the moon was bright and full,
it’s light a subtle melody of red.
Two steps ago the wind was but a breeze,
a mild unhurried breath of quiet dread.
Three steps ago the night was chill and waiting,
for something hidden in the shadowed snow.
And I upon that sheltered path was starting,
but that my child, was many steps ago…

Four steps ago the moon was caught in shadows,
and half the path was swallowed in it’s wake.
Five steps ago the wind threw bitter daggers,
and branches of the trees began to shake.
Six steps ago the night grew tried of waiting,
and hidden things in shadows ‘gan to grow.
I did not see just what the dark was hiding,
but that my child, was many steps ago…

Seven steps ago the moon was but a glimmer,
entrapped in clouds that smothered it in gloom.
Eight steps ago the wind was racing wildly,
as if freed of it’s fetters by the moon.
Nine steps ago the night grew thick as pudding,
yet thru the heavy dark the eyes did glow.
And I was finally ‘ware of growing danger,
but that my child, was many steps ago…

Ten steps ago the moon was e’t by shadows,
and all the light from out the forest fled.
‘Leven steps ago the wind was mad with longing,
it sought for any scrap of blessed red.
Twelve steps ago the night gave up it’s burden,
with glowing eyes and gleaming fang to show.
The hunt was on, and I the rabbit bolting,
yet that my child, was many steps ago…

And that last step I took in panicked fleeing,
from shadows close behind me on the path.
Thru moon and wind and clinging night I fled here,
the thirteenth step no different from the last.
To shelter here and tell my frightful story,
all glancing fearful out into the snow.
You might not chose, my children, to believe me,
but it t’was not so many steps ago…