It didn’t matter that I didn’t know its name
or its specific kind. I knew its shape
and that was more revealing than its name.
Neither did it matter who saw who first.
We both surprised each other, stopped
and stood our ground. Me, to strict attention,
as if by an unspoken order or command,
it likewise. Yet it wore no brass nor stripes,
nor epaulettes that might betray authority
or rank – just a taut, smooth, seamless
blue-gray snugly fitting skin around what
seemed an endless trailing body,
How long I stood there I could not tell,
what is time when it can’t be counted?
And then the stalmate broke, as if
the two of us had heard the order:
“At ease, dismissed!” And it veered
away like one who understood, hauling
its body slowly as if thawed back to life
and slipped into the underbrush, until
the tip of its tail reduced to a bluish-gray dot.
Copyright © Maurice Rigoler | Year Posted 2018