Perception

creeping through somber woods
along the river at dusk,
i tried to swallow my fears.

within the close confines of rotted stumps
and drooping canopy of dying pine,
she often found me increasing
the energy of my grip –
grasping the frail skin of her hand or
holding her shirt sleeve –
lest something should appear,
appetite ready to devour me.

wild beasts peered from underneath
the carpet of molding pine needles,
wide bright eyes following my movement.
ears seemed to twitch with each misstep
as if hearing and identifying my fear.
legs fluttered and wiggled,
ready to jump out at me without
even a moment to scream.

“easy, child,” she smiled and said.
“those images aren’t real.
it’s just in your imagination.”

she toted me towards the beasts,
my hand now clutching hers
to hold on for dear life.
then i saw them – as if for the first time.
old logs and stumps had imposed
upon the confines of my fertile mind,
taking the shape of beasts.
their bright eyes – simple knots,
washed white by many hard rains.
their ears – fallen leaves from the dogwood,
stuck to the logs with mildew and slime.
and those legs, those fearsome creepy legs –
broken limbs bent at odd angles to tease.

a nervous laugh escaped my lips,
and i smiled at her old wrinkled face,
ready to continue on our way.