I see him there, perched and waiting.
Watching, waiting,
just for me.
Hounds at my heel, unrelenting, nip and tear
with no relief.
His hand clasps mine both firm and tender;
up and up, he puts me there.
In the branches, he conceals me, far above the hungry stare.
On the door, words are written, "this girl allowed."
I finally breathe.
His laughter cool, a sweet elixir, turns the hounds--
one more reprieve.
The din below, I have forgotten.
His hold is sure;
he will not leave.
The din below is long forgotten.
Within laughter,
there is peace.
