tagNon-Erotic PoetryIn the Hunting Blind

In the Hunting Blind

byMagicaPractica©

Two vivid Blue Jays
swoop gracefully bush to bush.
Raindrops hang brightly on twigs.
Treetops in the distance
rise from a sea of fog.
bare dark branches hazed,
green conifers softened,
as if with a painters brush.
Rain thrums the roof of my blind.
It is the rain of my childhood,
beating on a porch roof,
steadily soaking the ground.
The dirt road glimmers in a ribbon,
snaking down the hillside opposite.
I'm cold and need desperately to pee.

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byMagicaPractica© 1 comments/ 4325 views/ 0 favorites

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