Eric Devenney

The Wanderer

Many things happen during the night,
Creatures come to life, dreamers take flight.
Shadows dance across the window pane,
Tree branches shift with the wind, they feign
Kindness to draw The Wanderer in.

This night, however, The Wanderer does not stray.
He knows they feign, he knows that he’s their prey.
He walks through the hollow, the birch trees melt,
Fir trees sway in the wind, their shadows svelte.
He stops dead in his tracks, these are scenes from a memory.

The Wanderer knows he’s fallen for the night’s tricks,
He speeds down the path, but now he’s transfixed.
Lurking ahead is every single fear,
And The Wanderer tries to run as they draw near,
Riding swiftly on winds of despair.

As he is met by his fears, he sits upright in his den.
The Wanderer then lies down, and prepares to walk the land again.


Copyright 2002-2007 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2007 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.