Regicide In the Pines

The cold sank it’s chill

deep into my legs

as I waited

in the tree line.

I skulked there,

in the shadows

as dawn crawled,


against me.

Slowly, reluctantly,

the woods came to life.

The squirrels chattered


The birds cawed


The leaves stirred

in unrest.

Morning dew fell over us,

covering my scent;

melting me into the pines

and we breathed


and we listened


and we waited


for the dreadful moment to come.

I whispered his language into the air;

sweet lies

of his destruction.

Slowly he emerged,

a figment in the ether

until I saw him;

eight-pointed crown rising to heaven,

King of the Forest.

And then,

my thunder.

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