Parking here to edit and revise

Belied

The woods, late spring
pond at sunsets
bat-skimmed surface
white tail pulled down
new leaves. The hawk flew low
as well.

Over the walking path
my shadow squat and low

No wings
no hooves, no wild thing.

Even the blue jay flew low
that night, while grasshoppers
jumped quickly across the path
my short shadowed sadness and dread
belied the flood of gold.