Red Riding Hood

Crisping steps, say three one two
in deep brown leaves under green skies hue.
The distant girl, fleeting in red.
Darts away in dread.

Old brown hands, marked and flexed.
Dirty hair.
Chapped skin flecks.

A church bell tolls the Sunday to come,
end of a week and the midnight sun.
The girl held fast, the new coat stained.
Crisping drops of rain.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.