shadows bobbing and weaving
a 12 round championship bout
heavyweight champion trees
shadow boxing with the woodpile by the door;
on the outside walls of the cabin;
and the blood leaf splattered red and brown ground
a dog in the distance makes his presence known
—hope the bears leave him alone
the sun out but not giving the usual warm embrace
but only an indifferent glance
got my hoodies hood up
not cold old boy, refreshing
hands in pockets looking at the woods
at twisted arthritic limbs
just fallen branches and sweet natural peace
walking with every sound
a symphony of musical nature
no more indians no more daniel boone
will build a fire soon
with smoke rising to the my friend the moon
who is back for a return visit tonight
sometimes he leaves for two weeks
never saying where he’s going
he doesn’t answer to anyone
and never says sir to anyone
he’s in nobody’s pocket
except maybe answering to the universe
from time to time and now the time is here
stars twinkle and wolves howl
fire crackling and planes passing in the dark sky
