Year after year
I’ve wandered this path
through leaves
through branches
that swallow the sky.
There has always been
a quiet certainty
a peaceful knowing.
But today
the woods are still
and strange
I am no longer
walking alone.
Even a soft wind
seems to know.
Somewhere in the trees,
in the shadows,
a man is waiting.
I can’t see him,
but I feel his gaze.
He’s patient.
He knows
I’ll have to pass.
And when I do,
the knife will find
my throat…
or, if he wishes,
my heart.
Before I can take
another step,
it finally happens.
But it is not a man.
It is another kind of being,
with four legs,
a small tail,
and white spots
scattered across
his brown fur.
He watches me
for a single quiet moment,
then disappears
behind trees.
The woods breathe again.
So do I.
