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    • William Warren
      Member
        Post count: 1384

        All the posts regarding the end of deer season made me think of this poem by Wendell Berry. We can still revisit our favorite places and find peace and joy even if by Man’s law we must leave off hunting. Enjoy!

        I go among trees and sit still.
        All my stirring becomes quiet
        around me like circles on water.
        My tasks lie in their places
        where I left them, asleep like cattle.

        Then what is afraid of me comes
        and lives a while in my sight.
        What it fears in me leaves me,
        and the fear of me leaves it.
        It sings, and I hear its song.

        Then what I am afraid of comes.
        I live for a while in its sight.
        What I fear in it leaves it,
        and the fear of it leaves me.
        It sings, and I hear its song.

        After days of labor,
        mute in my consternations,
        I hear my song at last,
        and I sing it. As we sing,
        the day turns, the trees move.

        Merry Christmas All!

      • SteveMcD
        Member
          Post count: 870

          I like that! Very Nice.

          Merry Christmas, Duncan!

        • David Petersen
          Member
            Post count: 2749

            Duncan — Nice to find another Berry fan! That poetic old farmer wasn’t a sportsman, but he sure understood our loves and losses. My all-time favorite, for its poignancy as well as beauty, is “Knee-deep in Its Absence.” All that was here once and now is lost to “progress,” Wendall reflects while walking a long-familiar but much-changed landscape, “I walk knee-deep in its absence.” Either we’re on that bus or we’re not. So much less painful to be not, yet too great a loss of engagement with life to contemplate. Stay warm, be well. dave

          • Reg Darling
            Member
              Post count: 32

              One of mine:

              Winter Food

              Blue
              crisp pre-dawn light
              Waiting
              filled with anticipation
              Trees
              rain golden leaves
              Waiting
              filled with watching and listening
              Ground
              sparkling with frost
              Hands
              stiff and aching
              Waiting
              filled with cold
              Movement
              graceful, silent and brown
              Heart
              beating hard and fast
              Arrow
              glistening with warm blood
              Here
              is where we have always lived.

            • Stephen Graf
              Moderator
                Post count: 2429

                Ahhh, you poets and word smiths make me nostalgic for this season that is not yet a memory, still a week to go…

                But the good news is that I am old enough now that next year will pass almost without my knowing it. And again it will be time to take up the chase. Did I say good news? hmmmmm, maybe this year I can hide my own easter eggs.

                I am just warming up from my evening in the woods. The last few nights have been the best of the year. Cold air, snow, quiet still wood. Tonight I saw a doe and 2 yearlings, a big old hawk that has flown over the same time last 3 days, a blue heron walking along the beaver pond, a gobbler in the tree, and my friends the squirrels.

                The cold is falling off me to the floor. The cat is moving away from me and closer to the fire. Soon we will tuck the kids in and my wife will bring me an eggnog. We will sit in the dark and watch the christmas tree.

                That’s the best I can do for a hunting story this year.

              • Hiram
                  Post count: 484

                  Fine wine! Thanks guys:)

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