Darkness

Being lost
in the woods,
I keep moving.
It's getting dark.
The sky is closing in.
The earth is getting
cold and the animals
are coming out
of thin air, rustling
the bushes, moving
with soft feet just
out of reach. I see
their eyes flash
and disappear
in the remaining
light of day, below
a thin moon rising.
But I keep moving,
feet against
the ground,
through the shallow
water, thickets,
the tangle of thorns.
I know there
is a way out,
I've been lost before
in the darkness
of trees. I am no
stranger here.