The croaking of tree frogs, in springtime orgies in a forest never truly silent, pierced the dark in harmony with the clicking of the bats. That same piercing chased me through the forest. I don’t mean followed. I mean chased. I walked briskly on paths lit only by moonlight.
Browsing deer crossed my path before and after me. Why are they not afraid of being smothered by the croaking and the clicking?
I leaned against a tree to rest. I zipped up my jacket. A midnight chill competed with the croaking and clicking to imprison me.
Something bright from above, a meteor, no doubt, rescued my entrapped earthly gazes to redirect them to a more ethereal realm. I imagined the constellations to be, not the Big Dipper, but grandpa; not Orion, but Aunt Sally; in general, family members.
To hell with frogs and bats. I wanna be absorbed by the runaway cosmos. They say the universe is expanding rapidly and infinitely. If I could just stretch my arm to the farthest heavenly body, I’d know all the truths there are to know. I’d be dead and alive at the same time.
If the rest of me caught up with my farthest reach, would I lead the rest of the universe behind me to infinity?
Marilyn lives a retired life in a small-town arts community jam-packed with muses and surrounded by ocean, forest and wildlife. She is visited by deer daily along with a multitude of other critters. She fills her time with writing, reading, beach walks, gallery visits, and so much more.