With a form that shifts like a wisp in sleep.
No solid shape just a ghostly guise.
I haunt the woods with fire in my eyes.
Shifting through the night, a phantom beast,
both smoke and fright.

With wings that rumble, I command the storm.
In ancient tales, my powers soared.
What am I, with a voice so loud,
splitting the skies
and parting the clouds?

In the dead of night, I silently glide,
with wings that stretch
and fears that hide.
My eyes glow red with an eerie gleam,
foretelling dark events that have yet
to be seen.

I roam the woods with six strong feet,
my glowing eyes in darkness meet.
I walk on two when I choose to stand,
a creature cursed
by ancient hands.

With sharp claws, and a long beak,
I fly through the fog, dark and sleek.
People fear my dangerous scream,
and in the woods,
you can’t escape my gleam.

I hide in the swamp, shy and rare,
with a tearful gaze and face of despair.
When glimpsed too long, I disappear,
my sorrowful form vanishing near.

Born of a mother in the dead of night.
With hooves that thunder
and wings that take flight.
Horns that twist and curl,
a terrifying sight.
A forked tail flicks in the pale moonlight.
I haunt the dark woods.