The Watcher

Behind the leaves of the tree line
that guard the deep water's trail,
is there someone hidden, who listens;
who watches me wander as well?

It sometimes seems there's a presence;
eerie the hunch is, and strong;
peering from under the shadows;
Waiting on me? For how long?

Next poem: Late Morning, Early March

Author: Jerry Dan Deutschendorf
from: Red Earth Whisperings
Part I: Nature and the Nature of Things