by Alida Woods
The window trembles in leaf light,
shadows lengthen into my daydream.
A chainsaw distances itself
as if to nudge me to consciousness.
Wind rinses leaves, shivering
past the window and I bend
to pat the dog who waits patiently
for a walk.
Her fur ripples in the brittle air
that draws us into this amber afternoon.
Losing light quickly now,
She pulls me into the emerging dusk,
impatient for progress,
determined, and threads our way
Cutting back through the half naked wood,
we find a clearing that opens into
a meadow, spongy with mast–
the darkening tree-line.
The moon lifts her belly up
over the trees,
shadows reappear and
ghosts speak softly
of darker woods
windowless and thick.