Unfettered land

Listen … can you hear the crunching and snapping

of decaying leaves and dried out old twigs,

as the ancient buck, with a twelve-point rack,

rubs the bark of the stately oak tree in the creek bed below?

Sniff the cool spring air high above the western

leaning mountains … do you catch the whiff of

the musky smell of hidden elk bedded down in

the shadows as dawn snatches darkness’s cloak

off the rangy untouched forest?

Feel the rush of damp heavy fog swirling

and twisting with the current of last winters

hard snow, melted and giving over to the

need to return to the sea.

Spilling over fall after fall

flowing to the great waters, well beyond the

fertile valley floor, dotted with acres of

thirsty fields being made ready for this year’s

corn, wheat, apples, and peaches.

A rush of gastric juices fills my mouth as

I reach down and pluck a tender

sprout of a daylily seen turning its flowering

buds toward the eastern sunrise,

while slowly, I chew on the sweet morsel

of this native plant.

My senses have awoken once again.

As I am reminded of the sure expanse

of my hidden rangeland that remains

largely unfettered, I smile and nod.

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Poem on the Range contest entry

Recognized

#26
March
2023

A free verse entry for the Poem on the range contest

thanks for the use of The Three Sisters by Neilnap773 on FanArtReview.com

Pays one point and 2 member cents.

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