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Monkey Face

The traveler started to quicken his pace
as the sun was setting it began the race,
to find a place that was safe,
and otherwise…dry and small of space.

In jungle nights such as these
there wasn’t much left besides the trees.
That glowered eerily above his head
if he hesitated he’d soon be dead.

Grabbing the vine he held it tight
as the stalking Jaguar came into sight.
Pulling upward hand over hand—
what a relief he did not make a stand.

The stalker below paced and growled,
but found no limb or place that was sound,
to follow its prey to the treetops above.
The traveler landed and startled a dove.

After awhile he began to prepare
his bed for the night— a twisted affair.
Then laid down his head in that tiniest space,
while the bright shinny moon comforted
…his small monkey face.

by Maynard Hartman

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