Solitary Woods Poem by Stephen S. Yeandle

in the dusky dimness
of the
days
remaining shade
and shadow

deep within the mountain
woods
a clearing beside a brook
I found

good place to build a fire
and spend the night

autumns rapid steps
informing
as
clusters of black walnuts fell
a
dull thumping staccato sound

firstly bonneted
then
swiftly cloaked
by colored leaf’s
the squirrels would seek them out

the hooting of an owl
a tangible reminder
of quickening nights
approach

skeletal twigs and limbs
collected
snapped to size and stacked

enough to make a fires heat
a small defense
against the
coming frost

a bite to eat
provisions hung
from yonder poplar
bough

my sleeping roll
becomes a sheath
for both my rifle
and myself

precautionary measure
should some nocturnal
predator
decide
to
demonstrate
ambitious
personal
demands

halfway through it’s cycle
a waxing moon began
to seep
between the trees
making a lighted stage
of this small open space

my eyes begin to flicker
along with fires flame

breathing
growing lighter
a
peaceful slumber
clutches me
in the warmth of my content

giving up the day I will
disappear and
sleep throughout
the night

awakening at dawn
buried within a fertile fog
my voluntary solitude
never more complete

blinded in the sightless air
in stillness I did listen

considering a muffled
sound off into the distance

hearing and instinct
my only
functional
device

taking
control of
my
anxious breath
as
the
audible
virulent
tangle
of splashes and growls
came nearer down the brook

cleaving
imagination
visualizing
something large
and ponderous

catalytic
pulse
increases
my
muscles
all
contract

a faint beacon appears
from embers beneath

the smoldering ash

the first indication
of dismantling haze

apparitions in
shadows slowly emerged
assailed and despairing
unearthly at first

a moment ago
so
empty
of all
it's many
sights

the forest
now
begins to
reappear

clear is my
view
but there is nothing
whatsoever there

just remnants of

All Hallow’s Eves

haunting nightmare...