Sweet Potato Haircut

Mystery eyed and peeking out from behind a tree

to look at me 

raccoon,

turning the corner to surprise deer

dawning out from the sunset forest

her favorite time to favor the field, 

I’ve noticed.

Bug eyed big squirrel who scurries

to my instantaneous surprise, delight, unease,

over my muddy boot top, 

the soft and startling patter 

of his paws (are they called paws?)

rooting me to the forest floor

like I am a tree,

my boot an unsuspecting root,

and squirrel making his rounds.

Big burly man walking slow

and my friend glancing over her shoulder

distracting me from our delightful conversation

with the woe that is being a woman,

even now, bound to neck aches 

and founded, vigilant fear. 

Hidden pecker poking loudly,

hollowly, against the dead and decaying wood,

mere memories of what once were trees.

I crane my sore neck skyward in search-

I see nothing, 

I hear pecking, 

I resign to the invisible.

Goodbye, forest, I am off for lesser lands and

Oh! Furry wild thing in the weeds,

it breathes and watches something far away

which I can’t see

so I admire the white cat as she prances

in the ripe twilight

and I think to myself that

It’s lucky I believe in omens.