
at sundown,
the lake becomes
a mirror

at sundown,
the lake becomes
a mirror
Do you feel unease, walking in tall grass? Visceral tension? A primal impression from a time when a wounded beast [on its belly, & with labored breath] retained enough energy for one last lurch to impale its hunter? A raspy groan or bloody burble, and the jerky wave of the grass might be all the warning one got before The End.

a cat on a ledge
peers down with rapt focus.
looking for… what?