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.