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Come with me in the cold light rain
I've built a stand to keep us dry
when dripping trees beat a refrain
beneath this last gray winter sky
....It's been too long since you've been out.

We'll ride my truck but not too far
just through a forgotten southern town
( We'll not talk about your cancer's scar
or anything which makes us frown)
....We'll talk of when we both were stout.

So we'll tell each other well worn tales
and pretend we've not heard them before,
of fishing or hunting sly whitetails
in remote places where eagles soar;
....places which we both hold dear.

Yes, we once stalked there.. and there
in almost every copse we pass
when we spent time without a care
as, unseen, life slowly filled our glass
....putting our futures in arrears.

I'll drive slow on these gravel traces
and dodge the wash boards when I can,
but they're common in these kinds of places
where deer, by far, out number man.
....I know each bump causes you pain.

Well, here we are; I'll park the truck.
The cold rain has paused at least for now.
We'll reach the stand dry with some luck,
it's just past that near ridge's brow.
....We should get there with little strain.

No need to hurry on our way,
we can pause to rest when e're you please
and listen to the tall pines sway
or watch a hawk sail in the breeze.
....It's odd to see you with a staff.

See! the stand is here already.
I built it big enough for two
with a seat that's comfortable and steady
and window slots to catch the view,
....a place where we can watch and laugh.

We sit and watch the world unseen,
talk low though hunting season's through
and soon a blue jay lights to preen
as a 'possum waddles into view.
....and the pain at last deserts your eyes.

Wood ducks whistle past, not seen, just heard
then a squirrel exits his den tree,
To wet and cold he is injured
the price for being wild and free.
....He finds a nut to our surprise.

Both of us just sit, quiet and still
watching over this cold hardwood hollow
from our station on this ridge's hill
waiting to see what will follow we've both done so many years.

Far off some turkeys fuss and cackle
and the misty rain resumes its fall
which disrupts a feeding grackle
from issuing its mating call.
....For just a bit time slows its gears.

Both at once we spot a deer;
a young buck with one antler shed
which looks strange as he walks by here
with his out of balance head.
....On both faces a grin appears.

But I hear you grunt then sigh
a signal that it's time we go.
As one we stand, glance at the sky
where there flies a single crow.
.....Who knows if we'll be back again?

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
I know it's pretty rough. Straight from pen to page to screen
Editing stage: 


Once again in your inimitable style you have created images, sounds and moods, as well as between the lines given a message (if i read it right) how a little time spent in the midst of nature can work as a therapy ...

I liked the structure with the fifth verse in each stanza beginning with a blank space, perhaps to indicate a pause..

only in the verse "So we'll tell each other tales" i thought it could have run more smoothly with an added word or two...

next time you build a stand, make sure it can accommodate a few more like me who would enjoy the spectacles live with you...


raj (sublime_ocean)

Thank you.I will study the line you mentioned and see what I can do. I've been playing with this style where the last lines of each stanza can be read on their own and be a poem in themselves. Kind of a poem embedded within another poem. Wes tells me it's similar to something called a "ballade" but not quite the same. I just started writing a poem one day with an abab rhyme pattern then said to myself "Self, why not add a line to the stanza end which breaks the rhyme of the first 4 lines?" Then i got to the end of the second stanza and thought it might be kind of neat to have the last (5th) line of each stanza rhyme with each other? So away I went lol. This is the 1st time where I just rhymed last lines in pairs which makes things a lot easier.
Now that I've bored you to tears I'll just say it's always good to see you've dropped by.......stan

author comment

You are as innovative as havent bored me one bit.but you forgot to say if you would indeed make a larger Stand to accommodate more...:)


raj (sublime_ocean)

Any stand large enough to hold more than 2 becomes a cabin lol. But there's plenty of room in this virtual stand for everybody........stan

author comment

Gotta love the length. No one writes with any heft around here. Yes I liked the last line thing and when I figure out what it's called I will let you know.
This is your usual excellent trip, but that's part of the problem. I would like to see some more variety in your poetry and no, writing a couple of sonnets is not enough.
Write something dark, something laugh out loud funny, soon you will write a Ballade, so that will help some.
The poem's not as rough as you think it is and it may make you smile to know that most of it is in iamb.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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Maybe these workshops are starting to do some good lol. Variety huh? Well, remember You asked for it........stan

author comment
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