Re-posting this, to get the ball rolling in this forum.
I wrote this poem in a flash of inspiration in 2014. I will be framing a printed copy to hang below my trophy buck shot in 2017
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‘Tis a mystery, from whence the Wild Wind blows,
a vast northern landscape of pine trees and snows,
But my mind wanders there, as it reddens my nose,
With the scents of the rivers where black water flows,
And forests that spring from the Earth’s granite bones,
All this I feel, as the Wild Wind moans.
Mosses and lichens and dead leaves and stones,
All crunch underfoot as I travel alone.
And the Wild Wind whispers, so soft in my ear,
“The hunt is afoot, your quarry is near.”
And my heart hardens fast against hope, against fear,
My mind focused and sharpened and deadly and clear.
And life spills on the on the snow, in the bright Autumn sun,
The cold Wild Wind and the hunter are one.
Another loop in the fabric of life has been spun,
The story’s not ended, but this chapter is done…

Just happy to be here.