As promised, it's September and I'm back with my scribblings, but with a change. I will not be clogging your inbox weekly with my poems. Instead, twice a month I'll be sending out new material.
Today's lines stem from one of my walks up in cabin country. However, I normally see deer and not their predators.
The Inscrutability of Wild Things
Up ahead an animal like a stuffed
toy from my childhood bed
sprawls on a country road.
My eyes sigh, "Dog on the loose."
The rhythm of my walk pulls me
onward toward the shapeshifter
at the border of the blacktop.
An urge for flight flashes my neurons
too late.
A strapping wolf wobbles to a stand
like an old man, drifts off and vanishes
into the grasses.
The earth heaves,
and I, stock-still beneath the swirling sun,
start to breathe.
Marilyn Aschoff Mellor
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