Having snow at Christmas time
is rare in these southern climes.

Yet this morn brought dazzling white.
A blanket blunting all sharp edges
including those within my mind.

So I put my old boots on
and a well worn camo coat
to hunt deer in this rare weather
(at least that's the excuse I used)

It being a wet snow
each step brought a loud crunch
sometimes startling a thrush.
Not much chance to see a deer
but on I went.

The sun had not risen yet
but still I was a late comer.
Forest denizens had left their calling cards
in the form of snow tracks.

Rabbits near their dear thickets
coyotes near their own dear rabbits
deer among the deep dark cedars
mice among the high grass
and crows along the corn field edges.

I brush the snow from an old stump
for old legs have become weary
after a mere quarter mile
I rest a while.

Steeping in my old man thoughts
long gone hunts
long gone friends
long gone wilderness
now paved shopping malls
how the world has changed so
over my many years
seldom for the better.
How the years have slowly thinned
my circle of loved ones.
How kins' passing has left me to be
Old Man Holliday.

I hear a crunch on the brittle snow,
a young buck has appeared
as they do as if by magic.
I slowly put cross hairs on him
then loudly say BANG!

Then smile at his confused
and rapid
departure.

As he leaves the sun arrives.
lending shadows to the landscape.
Casting prismatic spears.
Bringing the promise of coming warmth
and a new day.

And like the fleeing deer
my thoughts of the past depart.
The present is enough for me
as should be.

I smile then shade my eyes from sun.
I see a single drip of snow melt
the first of myriads.
With renewed vigor a and rested knees
I arise and turn toward home
and see a few cardinals
feeding on privet berries
scattering snow with their crimson antics.

And as I slowly work my way
through this unusual snow
thoughts turn toward awaiting hearth
and my life's love awaiting me.
At home