SUMMER RIFT

The haze of dawn is burning off
as my old truck comes to a slow stop
and I join it in a gentle cough
here at long ridge's sharp top.

Here the woods are mostly pine
with persimmons and a few cherry too,
a few draped in muscadine vines
with late summer sun now peeking through.

The door opens to humid air
and I groan a bit as I step out
causing a squirrel to fuss and stare.
I grin at him then look about.

An old logging road begins right here,
so with my staff I start my quest
(the excuse I use is scouting deer)
Late dawn air is heavy in my chest.

I don't have very far to go
until the pines change to hardwood
at a bluff above a streams clear flow
where a forgotten bridge once stood.

So I stop right at this in between
where pines turn into oaks and birch.
Looking to see what can be seen
I stagger feeling some kind of lurch.

I remain at the self same place
but the pines are just head high,
air cold enough to make me brace.
Bare hardwood limbs bisect the sky.

Then I startle at a long lost voice
telling me he's found the deer.
Shaking my head I have no choice,
my long gone brother calls me near.

Slowly I turn and there he stands
on a sand bar in the creek
boots sunk a bit in its wet sands
a smile stretching cheek to cheek.

The buck we'd trailed is at his feet
at the end of its death run.
I go down there with legs turned fleet
beneath a long passed autumn sun.

I slap his back at his good luck
then help get his prize up the steep bank.
we take turns dragging it toward the truck.
Hard work void any need to thank.

Another lurch....I'm old again
and wondering was this a dream?
It must have been I am no longer thin
"Where went the years!!" I want to scream.

I straighten my back and look around
at reality and then I sigh
for like this matured hunting ground
time has also passed me by.