My husband built a deer blind for a friend many years ago, and it needs some repair after years of weather, so the friend can hunt one more season before he sells the land. We went out to see the damage and measure the panels and boards and door that need replacing. Tony measured, and I took notes, and, of course, wrote a tiny poem at the bottom of the page.
Beside the deer blind,
three abandoned honeycombs,
branch of black walnuts.
It became this morning's chalkboard poem. On down the road is the Parklands Foundation Merwin Preserve, so we walked the woods there, witnessing leaf fall and more black walnuts, the U-shaped tree and the bending tree near the Mackinaw River, and hearing a deer (?) or some large animal (!) clear its throat...!
On the trail, I wrote another tiny poem, having brought clipboard, paper, and pencil along. On the road back, I noted the irony of the road sign: pictorial leaping deer + "next 2 miles." My heart split, sending out the warning, Stay where you are! to the deer in the preserve, and wishing for Bill his last venison sausage. Alas, we did see a small deer dead by the side of the road.The deer blind needs a new door. We have one sitting in our back yard, leaning against the tool shed, left over from another project. I hope it fits!
I read your blog almost every post, and always enjoy it. This post is almost a poem, which is asking to be written.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Risa! With your nudge, that may happen! Indeed, it seems like most of my experience of life somehow finds its way into a poem.
ReplyDelete