Tuesday, November 15, 2022

Northwoods Sunday

Autumn at the cabin has taught me some people see no need to wait for hunting season. Need I say more?


Northwoods Sunday


Quiet as an empty church

without congregants.


Party-going crickets, leftovers

from an all-nighter, hum in their cups.


A coiled snake on a paver soaks up

contentment.


Remnants of faraway forest fires

cloud the vault.


Unseen midnight deer strip

crabapple branches bare.


Notes of geese flying high haunt

in the air.


Rifle retorts shatter my reverie,

flip-flop my stomach


in this cathedral without sanctuary.



Marilyn Aschoff Mellor

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.

Black Sheep

The trees are turning, and I have always wondered about the firs that drop their needles. It wan't until I discovered this was normal fo...