Outside

I followed a butterfly.
And the brambles through which it
lightly, elegantly flitted
scratched me, left me bleeding.

I followed a spider. It’s
eight tiny legs and invisible fangs
rushing away from me.

Hiding under the log
much too small a space for me to
discover.

I talked to the tree
climbing chipmunk.

I wanted to know
who it thought it was to be
climbing a tree.

Looking at me, it responded, chattering, curious.

I didn’t understand.

Sensing that, it ignored me and returned to stuffing
it’s cheeks full of crimson boysenberries.

I noticed the crows fighting over
the bounty one found. They cawed at
me, cawed at each other and flew
away, chasing the bounty finder,
following the food.

I tossed the ball with the dogs
until I sent it spiraling into the
same brambles that made me bleed.

I returned inside.