The Devious One; Do You Know Him?

One of the first days of Indian summer, take a stroll. Dressed for the uncertainty of day she left the realm of safety. Was it, “Safe” she muttered, snickering in a smug sort of way as she pulled the door shut.

The sound of a door closing she knew well. That numbing sound of swish, suck, click and then, silence. Her hand lingered on the knob and for a second the thought of reentering crossed her mind. “Come on, this warmth won’t last forever.”

With no real destination, her feet she gave free reign and began to amble. Not ten feet from the door the fallen leaves engulfed her, so thick now, it resembled walking in mud. That beautiful blanket of color had turned the amble to a trudge.

A “sigh,” escaped and recalled the 120 bags she collected this time last year. “I love you to death but you are a pain in my side,” she voiced to the mighty oaks. Just as a breeze blew past; it was as if the trees waved, then a chill.

”I feel it too,” she said brushing away the chill of the premonition. Something devious lurked near by.  To the rear a rustle, a scurry and then silence. She turned slowly, as if expecting some monster from the outside world, a ground squirrel.

Wide-eyed, tail twitching, holding the remnants of her flower it stared back. “Relentless you are, go ahead it’s dead anyway,” as if the little creature understood. But the haunting chill lingered; it was in the air.

Goose bumps grew on the back of her neck. Senses escalate to defcon ten and her psychic ability gave her knowledge. The devious one, it was here.

Statuesque, trying to discern from where this devious one could be, she stood. No breeze did blow; stillness filled the air. No rustling, no scurrying, a silent vacuum broken only by the beating of her heart.

The devious one saw silence as an omen and chuckled in the stillness of the air. It felt supreme in the snipers stance, and now attacked its statuesque prey.

The devious one grabbed the mighty oak and shook with all its might. The mighty oak it shivered and like rocks from heaven, with vigor and rhythm the acorns flew.

Her statuesque pose was broken and for the door she had to run. The leaves only weighted her down, slowed movement of escape. The rocks of the mighty oak hurt but the door was in reach.

There are two things about my walk that just really ticked me off. First, you have the ground squirrels snickering because they have my permission to eat the dead flowers and that devious one.

That devious small, gray, fuzzy tailed, pompous Kentucky squirrel. He is trying to reopen a safety deposit box in my flowerbed and I won’t let him. He in turn throws acorns at me.

I need to buy some corn so I can rake my leaves in safety.

Peace…..

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