Drawn by the eyes
Sad and alone, I walked to the woods to cleanse my thoughts of woes of the week. The cusp of evening poured light into the trees where it was cut into shapes I tried to identify. I recall breaking backs of near-trees with every step and thinking about all the stirring creatures I frightened to take shelter in their homes. I thought about the horror that such a giant as myself could inspire in a resting mammal. The idea of the introduction of adrenaline to the bloodstream compounded by a quivering pulse allowed me to consider the thought of standing still to prevent unnecessary fears of predation. Suddenly I saw a squirrel who tempted me with his fearless stance in the presence of my towering body. His coat was shiny and his eyes were bold; they stared at me with such an intensity that, hours later, I noticed my own fluttering beat pounding in my ears. Oh, how night fell so quickly! He beconed me to follow, and I blindly crawled after him: my awkward legs attracting the opportune reproductive products of prickly plants and my own eyes pelted with twigs. He quickened his pace. I cursed my horrible, wretched legs. The consequences of their marriage to a big-belly torso. The wolves began to howl, surely foreshadowing some kind of bittersweet dangers. Wildly dodging the growing trees and desperately reaching for the exhaust he expelled, I opened my eyes to strain to see his bushtail. Much to my surprise, my eyes first visited a large mound with claws and ascended to find a leg and those bold, green eyes. Even more surprising was the scenery's sudden growth to tower over me. I wondered, am I a product of my environment?
He brought those big bold windows but now we'll never see eye-to-eye.
He brought those big bold windows but now we'll never see eye-to-eye.