The Chase

Crack . . .


He's coming. . . I feel him on my cottontail.
The world blurs before my eyes in hazed terror.
Running for life,
When death is running after me.

Heartbeat blares
Like a thousand drums
Beating last breaths.

Look out for the


. . . Rock.

(Curse my clumsy, floppy feet).

Fall. . .

Get up. . .
Only inches now.

Must hide.

Blood trickles,
Staining my white silken leg
Like oozing sap from the maple trees.
Wisps of grass tingle
my heavy wound.

Where are is he. . . ?

Wack, bam, bash!
Crash; not into the tree!


Warm breath, panting.
One last glance, at the world
I once knew and loved.