Looking through my old writings, I happened upon this extremely rough poem I jotted down a few years ago. But I thought you might enjoy it anyway.
PHANTOM RIDERS
Far and away
many years ago
there were strange ghosts
in an old, old bay.
Phantom Riders named
for their eery flight
over the waters
and under the dusk
Late at night
or early morn
one never knew
when they might come
across the street
the trees, the beach
but when they did
they’d leave no trace
A flash in front
a glow behind
those fierce blue eyes
and bony hands
The children would shiver
within their sleep
hoping the doors
were securely tight
For oft it’d been told
And oft believed
that those unlocked
were open to the night
The phantom riders
in would glide
and choose one member
of the house that night
Whether it be child
or whether it be man
They’d choose for themselves
one for their kind
And that individual
a ghost he would be
A phantom rider
For all eternity
-J. A. VanZandt
Forest Idylls 