the sun is falling fast faster than my feet can carry me they pound the pavement rhythmically my eyes darting from tree to tree there is no one down here but me the birds above too busy with their evening song. a brittle leaf tumbles, scratches the asphalt my heart catches in my chest I'm so distracted by my fear that I almost miss them — two glassy eyes like black marbles gazing at me from the edge of the trail. sleek and silent, barely perceptible, he watches me as I stop to admire his antlers, and wonder when he'll shed them and if he'll feel lighter immediately ready to grow something new. it smells like Christmas from discarded trees, a reminder of the season now past and a faint glow emerges from behind the clouds signaling it's time to go home. a cottontail scurries ahead of me showing me the path through the clearing and in the darkening dusk of my sunset journey I'm grateful to the forest for reminding me we're rarely alone.
becca starkes 