The squirrels still are silent, <br />but won't be thus for long. <br />The Stellar's Jay that haunts these woods <br />has not revealed his song. <br />The hunter waits behind a log <br />just listening to hear <br />a snap, a crunch, a subtle sound <br />that might reveal a deer. <br /> <br />Something now moves off to his left, <br />but it's too dark to see. <br />Is it a deer? He doesn't know; <br />it certainly could be. <br />He doesn't shoot; he's not the kind <br />to fire at what's unknown. <br />It might be someone's cow or horse, <br />a person all alone. <br /> <br />The sky is getting lighter now; <br />the forest can be seen: <br />the aspens with their yellow leaves, <br />the pines in their dark green. <br />Squirrels now are stirring; <br />silent they are no more; <br />a raucous racket they employ <br />until his ears are sore. <br /> <br />Daylight reveals a huge bull moose, <br />the largest one by far <br />that this hunter has ever viewed; <br />it really has no par. <br />He has no license to hunt moose; <br />he cannot fire his gun, <br />can but admire this glorious beast <br />under the rising sun. <br /> <br />No venison will he harvest <br />on this fine autumn day. <br />He doesn't care; he is enthralled <br />by what has come his way. <br />Not many men will get a chance <br />like the one he just got <br />to watch this splendid animal; <br />those deer he just forgot.<br /><br />Kim Barney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/approaching-dawn-at-poison-hollow/
