3:30 in the afternoon,
she trudged through seaside forest;
a blessed canopy that kept her secret.
Sweat rolled as
and grabbed at wet ankles.
Gnats threw themselves into the stickiness.
Slick itch and irritation a slight distraction
from deepening apprehension.
A lone cricket’s croak broke the whispering quiet with a rhythmic tattoo.
Hawks continued to draw a grand circle overhead to the south.
Was she getting any closer?
Regret welled up;
seeking relief from the tension.
Storytime is a series of poems that, together, form an unfolding story.
Read each as an individual poem.
Or, start at the bottom (Storytime 1) and read up (to the present) for a story.
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