Day: October 27, 2021

The north woods are filled
With the latter day knights
Armed with the arrows
Of seasonal rites.

Hung from the branches
In chainmail vests 
Of camouflage cotton
Secure in their nests.

The quiver releasing
The arrow to bow,
Poised for the passing
Of buck or of doe.

Endless the hours
Of patience they spend
In hopes that to one
An arrow they’ll send.

Then in a moment,
Unguarded and still,
The deer is acquainted
With the arrow that kills.

The knight in his armor
Descends to the ground
To claim for his glory
The muted of sound.

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