The woods

by Douglas Malloch

When I consider how you stalk

The quiet wood with evil breath

An’ leave behind you, as you walk,

A path of pain an’ trail of death,

I wonder how ’twould seem to you,

The silent people’s lord an’ king,

To tremble when you heard it, too—

The comin’ of some Bigger Thing?

THE CHICKADEE

There’s somethin’ ’bout the chickadee