Thursday, August 30, 2012

woods encounter


The glowing buck hovers buoyant, ripe orange
emerging from the steaming emerald broth,
stirred at dawn to see us off, sole silent
witness to our disappearance into
the leafy understory, pausing in
murmured prayer or whispered incantation,
flare of exhalation hanging in the
cool morning air before circling back
to our vacated perch high above the
lake, a fading snapshot, our mingled scent
lifting like migratory birds, barren
boreal compass point once again and
yet, if only for a moment sacred
point of convergence, spirits colliding
in a comedy of errors late last
night, warm bubble of our tent pitched astride
a deer run spooking the lingering ghosts
of dinner:   four fat small mouth bass destined
for the gravity of our frying pan.   

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