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,
and scatter.
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.
Mary Angela Nangini's poems celebrate the richness of life and love. From the city to cottage-country and the roads in between, Nangini explores the changing seasons of her varied region. (This book will soon be reprinted in hard cover.)
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still a Moody Blue fan out there just like me!!
Excellent write Larry....and thanks for the visit :)!!
Love Tinka
clever Larry;-)...
etw