We were two tiny animals, being hunted by a farm woman with a shotgun.
Scurrying, hiding, weaving through crops in terror.
As she closed in on us, I threw you into a thick crop patch behind me.
I stood hiding in the open, behind a scrawny cabbage.
The last thing I remember of my dream was the brightness of her flashlight as she bore down on me.
I never heard the shotgun.
Ironically, I'm glad that you could sleep well tonight, even though I couldn't.
Sadly, I could never say the same for you.
