For Battle

It is warm under this early summer sun.
Wrapped in heavy jeans, tucked deeply within my boots, I step carefully along, walking the edge of our pond—its few inches of water, rimmed by a brilliant tangle of grass.

Thinking boots alone enough, I walked here days before--the tender green at the edge, inviting. Only to find, instead, that I was greeted by cutting blades, so eager to slash the flesh below my shorts, that, even as I moved slowly and gingerly between them, the tiny barbs caught easily, ripped ungraciously. And, days later, boasted of their conquest in the many red scratches crisscrossing a 12-inch section on both of my legs.

Chased away, I have returned on this day, dressed for battle.
A fine bead of sweat inches its way, tickling, trickling--
beneath my armor, to reach my ankle.
It is in this savage land, defended by blades and swords, that damsels and dragons dwell.

Eastern Pondhawk, female,
emerging from larval skin (exuvia) several minutes earlier