One alert touch of a singular energy
tingles the collar of my boot
as tough pad flat back feet
startle my wakeful doze,
golden fatigue gift from
the red-eyed midnight sun.
Beside my prone form
a tight single sinew
squats all ready-steady,
one taut muscle with dark eyes,
a cocked crossbow of a hare.
The mere focus of my glance
triggers a starter pistol
in the crackling air between us;
the throbbing tendon untenses,
snaps like a sheet in the wind
and lithes away, springing
a crazy-pave hopscotch;
a unique half-sane path
sprinters the alarmed rocks.
