Nordlingen 2 - M.Weisgerber

In Nordlingen's square, they now gather,
Whispers of northern towns recent aflame,
Rothenburg, Dinkelsbuhl, utter ruins,
Trio strange, a foreboding claim.
 
Sun sets in a mystic circle,
Hands entwined, words shrouded deep,
Secrets uttered, none could fathom,
Townsfolk's restless, restless sleep.
 
Dark imagery in their presence,
Shadows cast on ancient ground,
A tree stands, its roots concealing,
Histories yet to be unbound.
 
In the corner of perception,
A black cat with a nub-tailed grace,
Lurks, an omen, an enigma,
Watchful eye on that timeless space.
 
Nordlingen, old and brooding,
Suevite veins run through its core,
Druid whispers in the cobble,
(Secrets whispered, evermore?!)
 
Mysterious flames ignite the night,
As townsfolk ponder, hearts dismayed,
Is it Suevite's fiery vengeance,
Or arson's art in shadows swayed?
 
Town too ablaze, in poetic fury,
A dance of fire, a chilling sight,
The trio's cryptic incantations,
A tale that haunts the endless night.
 
The tree, witness to this drama,
Stands tall amidst the raging pyre,
Symbol of an age-old presence,
Its secrets burned in smoke and fire.
 
And in the periphery lingers,
The nub-tailed cat, a silent wraith,
A guardian of the enigma,
That Nordlingen hides beneath its breath.
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