// December 19th, 2009 // No Comments » // Family Values, Health, Hunting, Outdoors, Relationships, Writing
Each Year I Go Into the Woods
A Poem, Quatrain, Ballad or something of the sort by: Jason Reynolds
Each year I go into the woods;
I tell others it is to hunt those deer!
The truth: it is to put my feet where grandfather stood
Find my soul and wrestle my fear.
Sitting on the ground, trying not to be found,
Melting into the solemn autumn, white flag on a big buck’s bottom,
Singular concentration trying not to blink wrong, the birds sing their song;
About the time the crickets cease, the sun’s arising and so is the peace.