The Path

The man awoke, shook off his dreams,

Inhaled the crisp, cool air.

The forest breathed as each sunbeam

Danced off each dew affair.

The smoldered coals of yesternight

Called for company,

So the man trekked to a lake

To bait himself a crappie.

As his eyes swam cross the loch

They massed an abstruse shadow.

The shadow legged did not walk

Mere adopting the meadow.

He fixed his gaze unto the figure

Opposing it to flee,

But when the shadow remained inert

He left it to the trees.

The man he made his way to camp

Though now the air was ill.

A stitch evolved into a cramp,

The dew had but distilled.

The remainder of the day was lost,

Trepidatiously demised,

Hangover from the lake figure

Perturbed the lone man’s eyes.

Night ran among the heavy pine,

And settled on the brush,

And all along the lone man's spine

Horripilation spread a rush.

The shadow rose up to the man

And as it wrapped around his cape,

Its arms bristled like a lariat,

The man found his escape.