The lone figure trudged
up the sloping hill,
rolling his shoulders as if
preparing for a punch.
His hair glistened with sweat and grease,
every feature sagged with grief and weariness
he wore a long dark coat,
no shoes.

The wet grass shivered around his feet,
and bowed in wide circles where he
stepped.

The man disappeared over the hill,
the crickets, previously startled into silence,
resumed their drone.
The grass straightened,
and the moon reappeared from behind the clouds.