You approached me
resolved from the first —
frontiersman and implement.

We matted grass
for a spell.
You blunted it alone.
I thwarted my cold
dashing
tinder and stone.

The sod never trembled
under us.
I held my hand.
You whispered everything but.

Waiting for the heavy tread
of settlement,
marked time in timber tips.
There is no shame in abandonment
or so others said.

In the dark
there was something
whose contours I hadn’t met.
It lagged or rushed ahead.
You guessed,
boneyard I said,
imagined the beast
it might have been.