don’t cross the buck’s trail…my poem
blinking, not blinking…
Owning the trail
The sun was high,
the patient rays
striped the forest floor,
tree tops swayed enough
to nudge the shadows,
a bird sang half a song
way down the hill,
an angry squirrel
sailed across the trail
and stared at me,
he didn’t blink.
I walked the next turn,
and stared without blinking,
an eight-point buck
looked back at me,
he stood still
as his woman and kid
rambled across the path
and disappeared
in the hydrangea,
he didn’t budge,
he seemed to be daring me
to make a move.
He showed no fear,
he owned the trail,
I was the stranger with two legs,
I looked at him for moments,
I faced him moments more
as I shuffled back
around the turn,
and shambled from his world.
The sun was high,
the shadows trembled,
I walked away through empty woods.
February 6, 2025
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My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2025 All rights reserved.
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