Who hears the calm beginning under ice
the frost and loss as something stirs?
Who'll see the sun rise up and so entice
the quick fish from the shadows of the firs?
Who knows the cold and can in all things wise
divine the crack or fall as spring begins?

Backlit branches lit by mist
the trunks are moist and bare
the ground is sodden from the rains
as he kneels to check his snare.

08/14/2011

Author's Note: About a hunter

Posted on 08/14/2011
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