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Night Walk

Night Walk

by Terry Allen

Image by Florian Kurz from Pixabay

It’s the overgrown paths I seek,

where cattails sway and pine trees,

whisper sweet nothings in the bleak.

Where uncertainty and unease,

fogs my brain,

and shadows dance in my periphery.

There is my domain,

in the wood’s twilight witchery.


An owl’s cry splits through,

a thousand crickets’ cacophony.

Home is far from view,

the sky lit like an epiphany,

and released from my anxiety,

I sigh, self-consolation.

My soul filled with satiety,

Freed of society’s damnation.

Yes, those are the paths I seek.


--(c) 2023 Terry Allen


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