The Lesson on the Trail

The brilliant red leaves of the shrub
shrugs off the snow, like a stubborn child
of Mother tucks it under the blanket.

the lodgepoles in the white coat 
toss the snows at the passerby, as if warning.
Feeling it, I turn my head but see none,
not even him; move along the trail, indulging in
the peace. yet hear a sound in the no sound,
feel an eye in the no eye zone.
there, it groans; I turn back and meet it.

the mountain lion on the boulder on the slope,
hungry, fierce eyes. I froze, then slowly 
pick up the big stick, mistake. It jumps off
the boulder and slinks toward me.

toward...the hare playing a statue.
I run to the car, inside it, I see 
the beast chases the hare into the 
dense woods that whisper,

whatever it is, I only wish for 
the hare home safe. and so, do I. 

(c)Byung A. Fallgren