(or Whiffs from a Dark Journey) Alone again on grassy path To vital refuge on rainy night Latched inside a tiny shack Bushy skirt pressed left and right Petticoats, underdress, overdress raised Bloomers first lowered Now drawers, is that all? The word I want is “empowered” Nothing to see but lacy cloth All fluffed around from waist to head Lower parts lower ever so slowly Wood donut on hindquarters dread Perched silently upon the black pit Gentle tinkles like soft mountain brook Breeze of flowers, a scent to imagine Jealous, but quiet, contained in this nook.