The full white moon,
Bathed in a black oil...
Drapes over the dying forest,
As twigs crack and burst,
Under the wright,
Of frightened people...
Cold wind flows from me,
And out onto there bodies...
Chilling them to the core,
Sending them fleeing,
Back to their safe houses...
Creatures file out from the woods...
Scampering across the path,
The people have run over...
I am one of those people...
Running away frome something,
And into another...
My chest aches from the breathing,
As I collapse,
And the mud covers my arms...
I fall prey to wilderness...
Hoping...
And praying...
I don't become apart...
Of its food chain...