Clay

Driving late, I feel the gaze

Of someone from the wood

I have the shoulder stub

My breath before I blink

I stand on old decaying leaves

Attempting deja vu

Not a crooked place

There isn't anyone but dark

But then I see a hill

Just past the break between the trees

Leaves flow all around him

Clay rising out of road

Wet branches run against him

As he flickers into sight

While fading back to thought

He warns me with a glare

And he comes from time to time

When blue has turned to black

To save me from the threat

That he himself creates

The unassuming father

Of all that we have sought

He's gone again, I try

Along through drops of cloudy fog