The Enemy

I waited in a thicket
by a splashing stream
for the inevitable fight to happen.
At least I had the satisfaction of knowing
the enemy would not easily find me.
I would hold out and escape.

That turned out to be brick-difficult
under these glistening, sweltering
jungle-like conditions.
Sweat lay on my face,
slick and thick.

Squadrons of green darners
dropped down from eleven o'clock
seeking to devour mosquito lunches.
The quicker the better as far as I was concerned.
If these dive bombers
were not vanquished quickly,
there would be nothing left of me to find.

The rustling of the viburnum leaves
acted as sound sentinels
and infiltrated the air with its late warning.
He was so close I could smell
the laundry detergent of his cotton shirt.

The blood was warming within my head.
My mind worked over-time,
drawing up an escape map.

My time was running out quickly
as a fox almost treed by the hound.
My only chance was to jump
into the stream and swim,
hoping for the best.

I turned to run, attempting
to make good my escape.
A sharp object stabbed lightly
into my back.
I heard mocking laughter.
All was lost.
I raised my hands, tuned around
and looked into his brightly beaming
sunshine-face
with his love gushing forth he said.

"Gotcha' daddy!"