the wandering is nigh, when people go out
into the night, not knowing why or for how long.
and while they do so,
the creatures come in on the sly, taking what
you love, storing it back at the lair between
'what' and 'want.'
the thieves come in the fall, through holes in your
ceilings and your walls. you'll know them by the worms
they pull. check your garden for squiggles, and pigs,
and other things that move in a criminal manner.
wait for the opening. keep your head high and your eyes
alert. the wandering must happen, but, you know,
no one
needs
to get
hurt.