In their bog, the peepers’ wild chirps
The shed creaks and groans.
I look up and the night is starless.
I feel alone
Who observes my head tilted back,
palms toward the sky?
A passing thought,
at first invisible, then
an almost tangible idea
of another in the writhing shadow.
I move quickly to the door.
Flick the lock.
Check it again.
Just to be sure.
Still feeling watched through the naked windows.