woods encounter

Convergence

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.