Exposure
I have this recurring fantasy. I travel to northern Ontario and hire a bush pilot who flies me to the Great Slave Lake. It is a one way trip.
I carry my trusty Ronco Survival Knife that I bought for $19.95 in a weak moment a few years ago after watching one of those late night infomercials. The top of the large serrated hunting knife is a compass, which screws off to reveal fish hooks, a bit of line, some matches, a folded up saw.
I take one eighth of my ancestors with me, the Cherokee relations. I will survive the bitter cold and the bears and wolves. I will fish, find wild berries and rob honey trees.
Lichen broths are supposed to be nutritious, even tasty, I understand.
filling the feeders
I watch for
the Northern Flicker
(Published Simply Haiku - Spring 2009)
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
