by John L. Thompson
The shadows were silent
but the twigs exploded.
We fell silent in the dark,
listening, sweating, cursing.
We were told:
“I have seen the shadows move along the rocks,
under the full moon and it comes this way!”
But we ignored the warnings.
We took flashlights,
poked holes in the dark,
and with handguns drawn,
we searched for the shadows that moved.
I saw the eyes,
crisp green glittering emeralds,
cutting the darkness before they retreated into the shadows.
Fear made us stay in a truck cold, tired and hungry.
The morning came and the shadows retreated,
We looked around at a tent fallen in on itself.
We found the cat paw prints in the soft dirt all around.
We never saw the shadows move in the dark.
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