The thick green grass is bent in places
Footstep bruised/ and flattened
The moist smell of aromatic Earth escapes the ground
And seeps through the high reeds/ perfuming the atmosphere
There is another smell of human desperation redolent in the hushed air
Hunter and prey/ both unhappy and chomping at the bits
A dance as old as time
Man and dog, advance cautiously at first
The dog paws the damp soil
Sniffing the depression left behind by fleeing victim
Up ahead, Johnny knows capture is imminent
He can hear them hot on his heels, like Hell’s hounds
“Over there – in the thicket, quick!”
Old Johnny boy –
On the run since he was born
Freedom short-lived
Johnny says his last goodbye
Because he knows he is done for
Massa won’t give him no more chances, for sure.
By: Joszann St. John
Woundedbirdnomore 