sloth at the Cincinnati zoo

by Ashley Kirkland

Maybe

 it’s the temperature, 

but I can’t

be rushed; I like

to take my time, take it

                slow. Clawed fist over

clawed fist, branch 

to branch. It can be

so lonely in winter

– so few visitors 

that time of year. Not like

                      the summer when the kids flock

for summer camp

to spend their days among 

the trees and those of us 

hiding in them. 

I play this game

– it takes all night– 

where I find a new hide-out

in the greenhouse and the children 

try to find me in the morning. 

There’s nothing quite like 

the sound of a child 

squealing with joy, calling

his friends to 

come here. 

Ashley Kirkland writes in Ohio where she lives with her husband and sons. Her work can most recently be found in The Naugatuck River Review, The Light Ekphrastic, and boats against the current.