Branches snapping and popping, up the bank as I struggle, front pocket a pistol, hidden knife in the buckle. Woods can be pitch and lonely, a lot of crazy sounds, better keep prayer high, don't wanna be lost and found.
As I reach the bluff's top, odd view catches my eye, creepy seeing someone else, especially here this time at night. I was troubled with his approach, overconfident in his trot, saying I need to speak with you, holding up fish he just caught.
I believe the man is lost, stare crazy and angled at me, as he blurts out my name, expressing this isn't a dream. Catching a hollow numbness, never encountered this man before, then he starts to explain, I'm an angel of the Lord.
I still return from time to time, an inner peace that it gives, helps me with my strength, with knowledge that he lives. From that day on, a life changing stroll, if that's not a sign, a figure of life's toll.
©
K