through a forest preserve,
I tried to find myself
hiding in dappled shadows.
Hazy clouds
veiled the sun,
unleashed icy drizzle.
A blue jay squawked,
berating me for trespassing
in his territory.
The mist thickened.
Raindrops
beat a staccato patter.
My teeth started to chatter,
but I was too stubborn
to turn back.
Down the hill I trod,
carefully stepping around
a mound of Artomyces pyxidatus
clinging to a downed log.
I stroked the lacy fungi,
so tasty when sautéed,
but the coral crown
was too perfect to pluck.
An old pine tree bent and swayed,
whispering, this way.
Pinus strobus pointed at a creek.
Her branches clacked,
a swift jab in my back.
The needles tickled,
but I dared not laugh.
All forest adventurers
should respect nature,
especially trees, so regal.
I crept closer.
Wet moss smelled like mysteries.
Water gurgled over rocks,
saying, come and play.
I shed my boots,
socks and inhibitions.
Algae made the creek bed slick.
Bracing cold
swirled around
my toes.
Foam formed a face.
The Nereid demanded
that I dance.
Dumbstruck, I swayed.
Dance, she commanded.
Geese flying overhead
cocked their heads
and honked
while I pranced.
I spun in a circle
and fell on my ass.
The Nereid vanished,
but I heard her
laughing with me.
Alicia Hilton believes in angels and demons, magic, and monsters. Her work has appeared in Daily Science Fiction, Enchanted Conversation, Modern Haiku, Neon, Unnerving, Vastarien, Year’s Best Hardcore Horror Volumes 4, 5 & 6, and elsewhere. Her website is https://www.aliciahilton.com. Follow her on Twitter @aliciahilton01.
Twitter @AmandaBergloff
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