Front paw
paused,
she hisses at some slight
night shift. Breath hitched,
you see nothing, scarcely
feel the iced
rivulet of sweat stream
down your unstrung spine,
as she slinks, sleek,
winding back through the black.
Leaving you
with monster or moth
and shivering
in the silence.
A self-confessed wild word wielder (more commonly referred to as writer and editor) and unabashed alliteration aficionado, Heather Moore Niver spends the rest of her time swilling hot black coffee, and/or herding her wily and woolly sheep, peckish chickens, persnickety cats, beardy husband, and less beardy (for now, anyway) son at her cabin in New York State. You can soon follow the adventures of all the aforementioned (and plenty more) at http://clovehollowchronicles.com . She occasionally remembers to do the Twitter thing as @nivermoore .