HERMIT IN THE WOODS

by Lorri Ventura


Despite the rumor that she ate children
I looked for her
As I rode my horse along the overgrown, old lumberjack trail.
Once I saw her drifting toward me among the towering oaks.
At first I thought she was a rag-clad ghost
Her skin translucent
Waist-length hair colorless
And adorned with brown leaves.
Nostrils flared, 
My palomino shied away from her fusty odor.
As if possessed,
I slowly reached into my saddle bag.
Hands trembling,
I held out the carrot packed
As a treat for my mount.
The woman crept toward me
Then, fast as a beam of light,
She snatched with a vine-like hand,
And devoured the root tuber.
Subtly tugging on the bridle’s reins,
I backed up,
Worried that the specter was eyeing me
As her lunch entree.
But then she dropped to her knees,
Head bowed and hands clasped as if in prayer
Giving me both leave and benediction.
I never told my parents,
Knowing that they’d forbid me ever again to ride in the forest
But whenever I rode down that path
I packed an extra sandwich or snack
In case the woman re-appeared.
Never again did she grace me with her presence
No matter how hard I searched.


* * * * *

Lorri Ventura is a retired special education administrator living in Massachusetts. She is new to poetry-writing. Her poems have been featured in several anthologies, in Red Eft Journal, and in Quabbin Quills. She is a three-time winner of Writing In A Woman's Voice's Moon Prize.