Tote Road

 

Walking solo

on an old tote road

 

I glimpse a

snorting buck

 

as he leads his startled

fleet-footed

ladies

 

towards

a sheltered cover

above Long Lake.

 

How true, I think, as they run through the brush,

that verse

from the Papago

“Song Of The Hunter”

 

        .      .      .      .      .      .      .

 

The white tail, climbing

Seems like a streak on the rocks.

The black tail, striding,

Seems like a crack in the rocks.

 

 

 

 

 

[Published in Prairie Falcon.

© 1989 by Jim Cohn.] 

 

 

 

APPEARS IN

Prairie Falcon
(North Atlantic Books, 1989)