A walk alone

In the woods I walk slowly towards the rustle in the brush. 
A spotted towhee picks through dead leaves.
Rust waistcoat beneath black and white striped blazer.

Too many things for which I am responsible.
A person can't think with all these distractions.
The eagle does not feel bad when it kills the squirrel.
It only feels an absence of hunger.

Delicate and powerful,
The stream tumbles down the mountainside.
Alongside the trail water trickles down midnight rocks covered in moss.

A cow bellows.
I stand over barbed wire fence. 
Three white mottled brown cows look over their shoulders at me.
They look back the other way in unison.
The rear heifer bellows again,
Returning her gaze to me.
She regards me for a moment and walks past the other two who fall in line behind her.

It's an agitated group that lumbers up the hill towards the barn in the fading daylight. 
I imagine my presence saved them. 
The mountain lion did not strike 
As it had intended to.
It feared exposing itself to man.

I don't know what a man is. 
I don't know if it matters.
I hope I matter. 
I feel very small walking through the forest.  

There is no safe place in the world.
No spot where death cannot find you. 
In the forest alone at dusk I feel vulnerable. 
In my mind scenes of mountain lion attacks play out.
I wonder how I'd act in that situation. 
Would I freeze?
Would I run?
Or would I do what one is supposed to do when confronted with a panther:
Try to make myself seem intimidating.
That is a skill I know a man must possess.
To be able to make himself seem bigger than he actually is. 

Dark clouds in the western sky warn of immediate rainfall approaching. 
I leave the road and climb up the hill.
Sitting underneath a live oak, I wait out the shower.