Sunday, November 17, 2013

A Field of Scat – v2

Late January, in the cold clear wood
Boots crunch through layers of snow and ice
Breath catches in beard and scarf
Freezing in the air before me
Leaves clatter in the wind between
the otherwise still forest

A clearing, by man or fire,
out in an opening where the sun bursts through
signs of the denizens of the glen
tell-tale markings, little confessions,
in turned soil, crushed tracks of all sizes
and a field of scat, of the white-tailed deer

Saturating myself in the senses awoken
away from all but these sights and sounds
gathering them in, focus
wrapping in the cold, in the silence,
in the smell of the balsam and pine,
and in the taste of the ice

Following the footfalls first of deer
then of vole and chipmunk
Watching the shape of stem and vine
of leaf and tree, frozen, dormant
the changed impressions of the land
under snow’s winter blanket

Losing time behind the lens
quiet in the forest, the clearing
deeper, deeper, away from home
Luxuriating in the quiet
the simplicity, the peace
of that time and place


Edited November 17, 2013
A Field of Scat – v2
1/1/06 17:45
A Field of Scat
North Conway, NH, at least 6 years earlier
(with photo in original post)


All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 26,510+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.

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