Hunting Season

The day brought snow...tracking snow.
And the hunters.
In their neon orange vests,
and black wool pants,
they gathered.
Storm door creaks and slams.
Creaks and slams.
Creaks and slams.
Balls of snow
skid and slide
across dark linoleum.
Voices punch heavy air with rich laughter.
Snow encrusted gloves
dry in line
on a warm oven door.
Wool drapes chair backs,
warm, wet, black, red,
plaid.
Always plaid.
Gun oil, this gathering's cologne...pipesmoke, it's incense.
Open chambers, steel grey barrels, rest over hunting shirt arms.
Stocks are stroked, triggers tested.
Stories swapped.
The tradition continues.
With a chocolate bar, a box of shells,
and a dream.

E Strain
2/16/98

To enjoy more of this artist's magnificent work, visit kywildlifeartist.com