I think that this is one of your most touching poems.
It portrays the Autumn of our years and the sadness
that we may not be able to walk those hidden places again.
Do you not see that you have been out there in your thoughts.
Did you not feel the cold as Winter touched the trees.
Do you not still walk the paths hunt the deer and wander so
I shall walk with you as I did with this write, the only thing.
The lines like:-" My ears long for trumpeting fowl."
Can you not hear them, they fly with your thoughts.
It is as my Mystic creatures they exist
because I thought them so.
We have the ability, because we not only saw the real thing, but we can now make them ours, in our own world, and then tell others what they can see in Poetry.
Have a lovely journey young Stan, Yours Ian.T

I have made a copy of your poem( I hope you dont mind) there are a couple of places I think could do with editing
I will return tomorrow night with my suggestions .... I loved the story I could hear that sound when feet meet the snow and it crunches underfoot

I will seeya same bat time same bat channel

smile JC xx

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im back here are my suggestions

I await the coming frosts of fall
having tired of summer's heat
I long to hear coyote's call
and crunch of running cloven feet - my mind keeps wanting to say "and the crunch of running cloven feet"

Let me see the woods ablaze
each tree a different shade of fire - " with each tree a flickering shade of fire"
as leaves announce their final days
and greens fade as their times expire - "and greens fade as their time expires"

My ears ache for trumpeting fowl
flying south in shifting vees
the evening call of a barred owl
drifting on a slight cool breeze

I want to smell a wood stove's smoke
hear chainsaws cutting cords of wood
and listen to the hunters joke - "listening to the hunters joke ?"
at old camps where their fathers stood

Just let me sit where nature dwells
where acorns patter from the trees
next to where a small creek swells
from rains delivered on chill breeze

Allow me to just once more walk
through these places I love best
before My hunter ends his stalk
and wild heart stills in my old chest

just a few ideas loved the last two stanza's :)

hugz xxx

your voice beckons me now
to my backyard, in Canada

lovely Autumn
you inspire
another one for me..

Another nice stroll into the woods and a sad yet a bit of reality lies in the last stanza. Hope it is not a last autumn or WE shall certainly miss a lot of those seasonal strolls of yours.

A piece that I wish to write. Nothing to suggest really but perhaps a look into the third stanza for a more tidy meter(imo) and that "f" that unintentionally dropped after the last stanza, Is it one of the Fall leaves ..LOL

Much enjoyed.

Read "Free" over in Storytelling. You play a part that is inspired by these poems. Morphed into song indeed.