yesterday evening I sat where I sit now waiting for whitetails to materialize snow was falling and geese filled the graying skies strings on the horizon before dropping into the freshly cut corn field draped over acres and acres like an ill-woven well-worn blanket it was cold and the birds kept coming pushing into the northeasterly wind that drove them from the lake to find their evening meal
this afternoon it’s far warmer the sky is empty except for three or five tattletaling jays and the murder of crows in search of a suitable tree a loud gang in lazy flight I sit half-hoping to see a deer but know full-well that the woods are still and will stay still until nightfall when the deer rouse to move like smoke in the dusk-light when I too rouse to make my own way thankful for the hours I was given
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