The chase left the woods
and crossed the river,
a safe haven,
a retreat,
an escape so clever.
Footsteps and hoof beats,
shouts of orders,
torches, pitchforks,
fear, loathing,
crossing borders.
Nighttime lingers
in the early dawn
as the sun peaks
slowly over the hills
to the bird’s song.
The chase was over
almost as soon as it began
but the sentiment
remains still
in those who still stand.
Autumn Siders 