They Are There

They are there,

back behind the hedges,

the hydrangea tree,

the star magnolia,

foot falls in deep crispy leaves.

 

Then,

still.

 

They hear us,

smell us,

fear us.

 

We wait.

 

All of us.

 

And then,

moving first,

we leave the 

early morning darkness,

to them,

the wild ones.

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