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I'm standing here this autumn day
beneath the Carolina sky
On one side it's clear the other gray
One shirt sleeve wet the other dry.

I close my eyes to give them rest
then shiver as warm air turns cold.
open my orbs inflate my chest
then watch some snow flakes scarce and cold.

I shivver then button my old worn coat
and push my cap tight on my dome.
Toss a mental coin then vote: I head off toward home.

The snowfall soon turns into sleet
which bounces off my wide brimmed hat.
and adds chill to ill clad feet
whose each step turn to a wet splat.

Then like a switch was flipped somewhere
the sleet stops and everything turns still.
Only my breath moves in chill air
as I come upon a tiny rill.

I step across the rill and pause
to give knees a short chance to complain
about the impact and pain it caused
then set my way up hill again.

Part way a breath of wind comes by
and with it an almost white out snow.
which blows snow flakes toward squinty eye.
Good thing I know which way to go.

Then the squall lifts like a curtain.
And gelid air is still as death.
Allowing me to ascertain
my location with labored breath.

The snow has hidden autumn's litter
and adorned each limb in white,
and here and there some sleety glitter
with green of cedars now in sight,

The green reflected off wild holly
with their berries bright and red
where finches flit in their bird folly
which dodge snow aimed at their head.

the tall grey trunks of mature pines
and ancient oak trees all about
some draped with thick muscadine vines
call 'SOLEMN!", I dare not shout.

Instead I continue my trek home
and keep an eye to clearing sky
which hasn't yet told its end tome,
Above me late geese form and fly.

I come at last to barbed wire fence.
Pasture and home on the far side.
As I push the top wire down I wince
at the wire's protesting cry.

I stomp cold feet on the porch floor.
And snow remnants dodge all around.
then I open up my hand made door
which protests with a squeaking sound.

Wife hollers out "How was the weather?"
I cough and say "the usual".
Then hang up my coat and thin sweater.
" It was typical for this old fool."

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
Ok, I returned with this unedited write so I KNOW it needs feed back.
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


that walk with you, gave my old bones the voice they needed, to protest the hurt you put upon them. I thoroughly enjoyed the
the tromp through the woods and across the fields, and I wouldn't change a thing! Only sad part about your entry; is the fact that you didn't read the instructions and you went waaaaaay over the line count. Oh yeah, it is also supposed to be free-form.
I'd say that you still have time to write another, if your trek didn't tire you out too much! ~ Geez.

Guess I need to exit the contest lol. thanks for dropping by

author comment

you know that I know that you know that you can write a free-form that meets the requirements and you still have time! ~ Geez.

hope to have it done tomorrow

author comment

before you do
read mine too
of freestyle I have a slightly better view
you have the clue
may so now do

As usual, I enjoyed your structured writing and your walk reminded me of some of my own walks in unsettled weather. FYI. It's a sign of getting old when you can't ignore this inconvenience and I always look for a warm hug after such things.
On a personal critique, I never liked seeing the word orbs when describing eyes. It parallels marbles.

Happy hunting!


. like my lost dreams...the flood

I am pleased you joined me. The orbs thing is something I will consider not just in this write but also future ones. As to hunting, i have been lucky this year in having already gotten a 9 point buck in freezer and passed on 9 antlered der and countless does. as I age the things seen while on stand outweigh just shooting any legal deer.

author comment
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