Mocassins In The Grass

I have snuck down to the edge of your camp

and watched, crouched in the high grass, breathing
just past your gaze as you stoke a dying fire and search a searing sky.

Walking between the perimeter between night and dawn -
you kick your thoughts about like a discarded Reingold can
found on the roadside happy for the sound it makes
as it skirts across the macadam and stops.

Certain no one sees you there amid the gravel and gravity
doubting your doubts, crouched like monsters in a distant field.

Your legs fatigue and then freeze unable to stride forward
or pull back from this not knowing -
Your camp smoldering in a seamless dawn.

-bellini