Something Is Out There

Oct 22 2011

Fall is fleeting, here.

Summer ends abruptly,

and winter comes

with an early snow.

So this uncertain season

is all the sweeter;

as common things are cheap,

as we seek out

the rare, and ephemeral.

Leaves turn briefly,

trees, stripped clean

in the first big blow.

The sun is low, shadows long

and nights hang on

as if darkness

will overtake the earth.

This is the season of in-between

chores all done

last leaves raked-up,

and we’re given permission

to eat, and sleep.

The air is sweet

with wood-smoke,

the light is pure, and soft.

Time to wonder

about a hard winter

an early thaw.

But the dog

is piss and vinegar,

hackles erect

at the door again,

this dog who rarely barks.

Deer, on the move

and something is out there,

beyond the cedars

that mark off  my yard

from the darkened forest beyond.

A cordon of green

on guard.

She charges

like a cannon shot,

a born predator

honed for pursuit.

But with the sense to stop

at the property line, the circle of light

barking furious.

The deceptive cedars,

a single row of majestic trees

evenly space, manicured neat

that mask the wild wood,

where creatures lurk

and even the dog demurs.

Will go
no further.

Out there,

where winter comes

that much earlier.

The season of hunger and cold.