Scout and Jem, That Night

That eve of the dead, the
white wind keened a
moaning song of
release, of words not
spoken before, of
guilty yet not.
Innocent was
not possible, not
then, not then.

A white demon, carried
on the white wind, the
white wind of white
shadows,
descended upon two
children, two young, who
did not know, who
did not understand
the meaning, but
simply were.

A white demon not
of their making but
part of their sin,
originally,
descended to seek its
retribution, its vengeance, the
annihilation of what was to come,
a demon stopped only by
the mute angel
named Boo.

For the Random Act of Poetry at the High Calling Blogs, we were asked to choose a character from a book – any kind of book – and write a poem to, from or just about that character. For details on the character(s) I selected, visit here.