#403: Night Encounter

A fog lay nestled close against the ground
that night, and up above the moon's white eye,
half-lidded, stared us down. The only sound:
the squeaking of the bats. Old Ned and I
sat in the cabin. I turned bleary eyes
on that back window where the Thing had shown
itself the last three nights. Across my thighs,
a loaded rifle. Ha! Had I but known
what kind of thing was lurking in that mist--
What fearsome claws! What eyes of burning flame!
--I would have held my Bible there instead,
or spent the evening taking Eucharist.
At least God showed His mercy to Old Ned;
he was asleep and dreaming when It came.
_