A Cougar Too Close
The weights balance, yours against his, but the cat has motion on his side, and hunger. You smell the raw intention, and go rigid on your knees. You're standing in a spot going narrower. There's geometry to this. Laid toe to tree, you'd stretch the length from lunge to prey. There are also tricks of prayer, while the last dimension, time, spreads in never-ending circles where nothing but sun-slant, shadow, leaf-fall in the breeze shift. Is it your will or his, that he tires finally of these patterns, declines your warm center? When he pads away into forest you're already gone frantic with escape.