TIMOROUS

She ventured out and softly shut the door
then quickly glanced from side to side as if
afraid the moonless night contained much more
than nighttime should. Perhaps a fleeting whiff 
of wind, a whispered breath that cooled her face
brought chilling fear of ghostly things that brush
one's hair while moving to another place —
imagined from an ordinary gust. 

For fragrant petals drifted from the trees
while luna moths danced through the evening air,
a garden full of wonders to be seen,
but apprehension left her unaware.
Believing only evil thrives this late
she’s blinded to the beauty of the night.

© 1998 Judy Anne 

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