Last Rumblings

The last day of hunting season (2015)

The sky darkens and groans

The crows issue hoarse gravely warnings

The boughs and leaves whisper and chat with the wind as it rises

Heavy trunks creak and chirp under the heavy weight of weather’s whim

Late autumn rain softly crackles as the glorious mat of orange and yellow

Relinquishes its vibrance one leaf at a time

Returning to the earth to rot

Before again becoming green

This is a time of change, of letting go

Summer’s last stand before fading into the frozen glory of winter

I sit under a spruce tree after a hard morning’s hunt.

A dead grouse in my lap

I ty to grasp the meaning of it all

What is a soul?

What did this beautiful mass of feathers and flesh possess an hour ago that is now gone?

And to where?

Deep rolling thunder shakes the air and adds a new quality to the quiet drops of rain when it subsides.

My feet hurt. Soles burn.

I don’t want to leave this place.

I’m not ready to move on. To let go.

To face the world of man.

But I know I must.

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