On this quiet country road
On a murky country night
The air was strangely still
The sky was strangely light
No cheery cricket chirping
No sweet songbird singing
One weak whistle of wind
A solitary spruce swinging
There was rustling in the leaves
As I rustled through my bag
I began to feel uncomfortable
As my car began to lag
In this unusual foggy glare
In this beaten down old Ford
The panic began to surge
The forest echoes did chord
A surprising sensation started
A familiar feeling flashed
The memory materialized manically
The careening car crashed
I heard the crunching approach
As they herded toward the sound
I reached for something heavy
As they reached me and gathered ‘round
Zombies, again.
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