There, some eighty yards from the tree line,
I notice it.
A benign symmetry strikes me as peculiar.
Not quite idyllic, it seems as if nature
Has rearranged itself for me, luring me towards
The woods and knowing full well that my
Curiosity always gets the better of me.
The sun will disavow me within moments.
I can choose to turn and follow my
Cravenness back home before darkness falls..
I pause, if but for a moment, gleaning
What can only be encouraging whispers
From the creek that separates me and something
Or someone yet unnameable.
The pines and laurels are draped in winter’s
Implacable layer of mist which threatens an
Imminent adjustment of its presentation
Into an icy display of dominance over the landscape
And my already unsure footing on the carpet of
Twigs and discarded autumn glory.
The blood inside me runs cold….
To be continued…..
Copyright 2018 Tina Jordan All Rights Reserved
Image via Pixabay