Matt Johnston - At a Fields Cold Edge

At a fields cold edge beneath the moon
I crept toward the woods, but ‘twas too soon
For one so giddy with childhood fears
To enter so quick what once brought tears.
So I turned and ran back through the field
To howl at the moon that was my shield
Against pitch of black, and woodsy brink,
And this was daring enough I think.

Matt Johnston

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-a-fields-cold-edge/