Clay

Driving late, I feel the gaze Of someone from the wood I have the shoulder stub My breath before I blink I stand on old decaying leaves Attempting deja vu Not a crooked place There isn't anyone but dark But then I see a hill Just past the break between the trees Leaves flow all around him Clay rising out of road Wet branches run against him As he flickers into sight While fading back to thought He warns me with a glare And he comes from time to time When blue has turned to black To save me from the threat That he himself creates The unassuming father Of all that we have sought He's gone again, I try Along through drops of cloudy fog