Two Apples for the Wait
Sitting in my pine stand
making something
of a day without to-dos.
Fall’s colors rusting
as the October days pass.
Eight turkeys pitched
from their roost at sunrise —
graceful, ungainly, silent
forms in flight —
after I put them to bed
from this same seat last night.
Crows volley caws
high in the hardwoods
like loud men across
a crowded bar
over Pabst Blue Ribbons
and David Allen Coe
on the juke.
Blue jays’ urgent tattletales
echo from over the ridge
while squirrels raid the understory.
A favorable west/southwest wind
carries the neighbor’s
wood stove smoke.
Our freezer needs meat
and so I wait.
Eventually, I hope,
one of the bucks
that scraped away a four-by-four
area of leaves on the ground
overnight will make his way
back through looking for
a willing doe as the afternoon
follows its dimming path.
I do what I can
to stay patient and still
in these brief moments.
World turning toward
the first snow of the season.
Two apples in my pack
and my time my own.


Two apples in my pack.
So idyllic, Matt.
May we all practice this patience, as it would make the world a better place.