Tuesday, November 12, 2013

11.12.13 (a free verse poem reflecting on a winter weather hike)

Crunch, crunch
Autumn’s first snow
Fresh over fallen, dry leaves

Small white flakes
Flirting through bare branches of Beech
Lighting on hemlock boughs

I outstare a whitetail at thirty paces
With not even a camera to shoot it
After a few precious moments it scrambles away

A military jet strafes the tree tops
At near supersonic speed
Reminding me that freedom has its costs

At twenty-two degrees
This November Canaan afternoon offers
Retreat, solace, renewal

Four miles of hiking
Medicine for the mind
Balm for a bruised soul

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