A Stone In the Cold - 5 Runner Up
The hunter hunted; the past comes stalking,
breath now visible, I quicken my pace,
dusk has fallen, nature is now talking,
autumn's chill causes my heart to race.
My eyes scan dense forest from left to right,
I stop, gain my footing in the thicket,
only branch and crimson leaves in my sight,
owls call out, and prey upon the cricket.
Voices seem to speak from the babbling brook,
cold stones, worn smooth, waters of countless days,
eyes are everywhere, yet nowhere I look,
something is near, I cannot get away.
Struggling, my arrow kept at the ready,
my once stealthy hand, is now unsteady.
This was my original entry for Debbie Guzzi's contest - "A Crown of Sonnets"
(This is also the first sonnet that I had ever written.)
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014
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