Bashful woods creature,

Scurry and hurry between the freezing brushes!

Dash along the grassy knoll!
Between the small and large hills…lies home.

Near the strong green humid backdrop,

Is “Lone Place”…the secluded Bastion,
Where fervent passion reigns,
Adorned by feasts of berry trusses

Furry, rotund mass of life,

Sheltered in between the branches,
A closed-in nest of earthen safety,
Does deliver much needed shelling

Temperate fog and chill dew whisper,

“This is home, my friend, lie peaceful”.

The creature shivers the day’s last quiver,

And slowly falls toward slumber,
Sleep, creature. Sleep.
It has slept, all is sound.

As nightfall drops and sweet sounds arrive,

The nearest streams and rivulets join and hum
The beauty of the soothing melody,
Completes the forest’s nightly essence

Therein, afar, where shadows play

Lie broken pathways, busted lanes
Where hindered beasts do take heed
Together, awake, they run astray

The pack leader declares: “Hunt”

Prickly sticks and smoothed out stones

Merge and tumble under the marauders’ heaviness
They scourge the region, fangs and claws in tow,
Ready to gorge on the nearest quarry

Predatory spirits, spreading through the low valleys,

Visible only to those who pay mind
The assault awaits…
The dormant creature lies serene
A thrust, a crackling of twigs and branches,
The creature kicks to combat,
Not knowing where to kick…
Violent jolts fill the place with loud noise

Dragged outside “Lone Place”,

The ground marks the beast’s yanking
The many forces now tear and thrash
The bites, the sharp aggression…

Actions derived by sustenance…

As the brutes leave the prey alone,

All is left is skull and bones
Dull carcass, lying still
Disintegrating, returning to Earth

It was at first a fruitful life…

Now a remnant of departed existence
The creature was, and now is none
The bashfulness was all that mattered

Creatures come and go…

Experiences last and flow
The bashfulness was its account
Its mark on Earth was that amount