Hunting Season

A man was shot
in my woods
yesterday.

He said,
"Some asshole
thought I was
an orange deer."

The stillness
of my morning
is shattered
by this dance
of predator
and prey.

There is a stranger
on my paths
today.
Will he pause
beneath the bear tree?
Will he watch
the otters play?

I see the figures
drawn in caves.
I hear the drums
that call the men
to chase.
The fires burn.
The meat is hung
and winter's cold
is staved.

We eat.
We live.

The bobcat,
fisher, fox,
coyote, otter
mink and man
are partners all
with deer and mouse
squirrel, rabbit,
weasel, hare.

We eat.
We live.

I see his tracks.
He is my buck.
I know his eyes.
I know his bed.

There is a stranger
in our woods
today.

I hold
my breath
and wait.