I lie in bed in my Georgia home, located on Forest Drive
– my house really is kind of set in a forest,
in a neighborhood set in a Metro Atlanta forest –
and I hear him outside, close by, calling out, asking us
“Who cooks… who cooks for you… who cooks for you all?”
His call is deep, smooth, and purposeful.
And I think of the tall, bearded, long-haired man
who, with knowledge, conquered our fears of the night forest.