doubling back under trees dripping
rain, the beast hid waiting.
night walkers passed, their scuffling
Nikes picking up mud, debris.
listening, the beast skirted the fir tree
and hunched its furry shoulders,
letting fear palpitate,
one motion and it could
kill, slashing out
with claws ripping flesh.
but it waited, hidden
in the suburban night,
while a stereo played Moody Blue.