As Autumn Nears

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One More Time... As Autumn Nears/contest.

The Autumn air is washed and faded
Leftover days from a month ago
Still sunny, but much cooler

The birds that herald morning subdued
Intent on making a living
Nature's bounty grown slim

Chattered warnings like “Morse Code”
Squirrel-talk warning each other
And the deer

The smell of wet dog
Her panting breath painted gray
Excited and alert

Arrrooooo, Arrroooo, arrrooo
Bring it around, Dancer
Show me what you found

About This Poem

Last Few Words: Dancer was a rabbit dog that hated guns, if she saw my cane being put in the car, she always thought it was a gun and wouldn't get in. She wouldn't budge until I let her sniff it to make sure. She loved chasing rabbits and would work a rabbit around to you, but if you shot at it, she would high-tail it for the horizon and get lost. I never tried to shoot a rabbit with her and she had a beautiful voice that just gave you a thrill. Sadly she's gone, but not forgotten.

Style/Type: Free verse

Review Request Direction: What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?

Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Editing Stage: Editing - draft

About the Author

Region, Country: New York State - USA, USA

Favorite Poets: Poe

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Comments

Hi Geeze

I recall the time when small game hunting ruled due to low deer numbers. And a good rabbit dog was/is something beautiful to listen to........stan

I don't recall...

us having low deer numbers here in N.Y. but I never lived for the deer season either. I went, but it was mostly for the meat and because my wife's father and mother always went. My father didn't hunt and my uncles weren't around much. My wife was a good shot, but was too busy looking at the scenery thru a camera lens. I loved hunting small game with my old single shot, bolt action Steven's .22, with a 27" barrel and 10x scope. I used to knock off a squirrel or woodchuck at around 75-100 yds. with Wildcat Mini Mags. A .410 ga. for rabbits and a 30/30 lever action Winchester 1894 for deer. Boy, wish I had the guns now! Ah well, thanks for stopping in. ~ Gee.

Dancer

thanks for the fill in. It is the highlight of the poem. The information about Dancer is in itself a valuable pot of gold for this poem, or another poem. The dog that hated rabbits that hated guns...
Love the idea of smell of wet dog- reminds me of the Billy Collins poem "To a stranger born in some distant country hundreds of years from now" which begins "Nobody here likes a wet dog."

There is...

nothing bad about the smell of a wet dog, as long as it is healthy and not wet from stagnant or nasty water. I don't think that Dancer would have known what to do if she ever caught a rabbit, but I know for sure that she wouldn't have hurt it! She just loved the chase. I think that I will go and read that Billy Collins poem. Thanks for stopping by to leave your comments. ~ Gee.
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