November Hunt

November Hunt David J Walker I drink coffee in the morning and I’m grateful for the warm flowing Of Rich and bitter/black liquid from The cast-iron percolation jukebox Perched on the edges of a dancing Mesquite campfire A flame addressing my needs greets me It knows my name and offers A slight barrier to the mornings Raw cold Not enough though an inch Away from too much Canada geese cross the sky Landing in their feeding grounds as Cayotes patiently await Their field mice breakfast To carelessly pass by I know this game The hunter and the hunted There is a loaded shotgun At my side The geese and I will have Another encounter The sun is an orangish glow In the eastern distance Its warmth will flow Like hot black coffee later in the day