The morning transformed us:
the path through the pines
became a glowing portal,
and we were gone.
The Wizard was alert:
the Dog sensed it
and voiced his concern.
The Path led through
shaded glades,
with just a hint of strange movement
within the shifting shadows.
Dog bristled,
stern warnings in his throat,
prompting the Wizard
to chant an arcane, but powerful,
spell to counter Chaos.
Waves roughened the darkening cove,
obscene shapes showing
through the foaming crests.
Suddenly a sharp crack...
the smell of ozone.
We picked up the Thursday flyers
from the foot of the driveway,
and, as the dog was exhausted,
sat on the verandah
for a Time.