The Prehistoric Forest

we called it the Prehistoric Forest every nook and cranny of home had a name it was a dank and mossy glen beside the creek it brought to mind the distant ancestors not our human kin but back to the beginning back to slithery things like centipedes back to slippery things like frogs and snakes back to invisible amoebas only imagined woodland spiders hung their capture nets and black dead fall limbs littered the path there were ferns and cane brakes and mysteries and if there was a rustle in the trees perhaps it was a squirrel or perhaps tyrannosaur on cool mornings a fog settled over the creek I could stay until the cloud lifted but I would go better to remember it that way shrouded in mist