Shapeshifters In The Moonlight

I scrabble for my glasses,

knock them to the floor.

A full moon in a clear sky

is unusual to see.

My housecoat and I

sit on the couch to watch.

Dewy trails mark the passing

of shape shifters as they slink along

the edges of the light,

excavating compost

finding rotting treats within.

Beady noses twitch at night sounds.

A motion triggered light

flashes at the gate,

to reveal the garbage bandit;

a disrupter of leaves;

muddier of water.

Winter has been long this year.

Thick sheaths of ice on branches,

crash and fall to spear the dirt.

The pine tree lists

like a sailor on a ship.

Limbs lean to touch the fence.

The crown cracks off

to cleanly miss the shed.

Wood piled for the chipper;

Pieces bucked up woodstove size.

Dry warmth in the damp cold

of a Pacific winter.

If you enjoyed this story, send me a tip so I can write another one.

Or share it on social media. Your recognition means a lot to me.

Read Next >

This story also appears on Medium by Tree Langdon, the author.