Deer Season

by Leonard M Hawkes

ash-gray autumn sky
box elders burn frosted gold
the old hills still call

loved ones now long passed
live still in October pines
as ghosts of the hunt

with no more blood lust
nor sharpend sense of the chase
warm Truth is quarry

its gray-green steepness
its song of the rushing tongues
tie me to Black Pine


Author's Note: South of Mantua

Posted on 10/19/2005
Copyright © 2023 Leonard M Hawkes

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