The Illusive Sasquatch

At Little Girls Point
We kept our eyes peeled.
- Sightings weren't uncommon.
The woods,
Deep,
Thick,
Mysterious,
Seemed the perfect place
To lose yourself.
To conceal.

Shadows lurked-
Optical illusions
-Certainly.
But,
The Upers believed.
A blurry still,
Captured by a shutter,
Outweighed
The trolls
Skepticism.

A thumbed frame,
Blotting out
The furry figure,
Could bring good coin.
Or the distant,
Questionable
Fortunance
Of a fisherman.
Etched
Into digital memory.

We held faith,
In that depressed area,
For a plaster casting.
Some evidence,
-Perhaps.
A trail about
The flooded,
Capped,
Abandoned mines
Or oxidising ore mounds.

The copious prints found,
Large as they were,
Were but replicas.
Dusty,
Damaged,
Artificial artifacts
Tucked behind antiques
In dingy,
Overpriced
Garage sales.

Still-
There's satisfaction in the lasting search.
Many a foot had trodden there
And likely will again.
As the kindred soul did once,
Who's token fell
For me to chance upon.
-Walking Liberty resurrected.
This enduring symbol of freedom
And the marvelous stuff of lore.