Alone In The Forest

The tiptoe of cougars
Beneath ancient pines
Are scarce in the shadows,
Invisible lines

Reflecting the moonlight,
Or is it just me
Who believes they are here?
Is that movement I see?

Or the haunting of shadows
A thousand years old,
Or the crackle of tree limbs
Out there in the cold?

I gather my parka,
Stand close to the fire,
While each noise and shadow
Finds my fear growing higher,

Until, from the road, I
Hear voices and then
I relax as my brothers
Return once again.

© 2002  Pam H. Murray


June 18, 2002