The Falling Snow

a hunter and a doe

The sparrow's cry marks the hunter
kneeling over his prey in hunger.

Shoulders brawn and rifle strapped,
pets the fur which he had cracked.

The wheezing noise of dying breath,
the flakes of snow, which carry death.

Vapour slowly exhumes from chest,
the tree roots mark this place of rest.

The needles pine for a life that's lost,
the stars align, two paths have crossed.

A hunter or doe, death does not know
what life will flow with the falling snow.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I enjoyed the poem. I like the use of nature to create good visions and thoughts. Snow changes the world for nature and man. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[Bri 810]

I feel like the wording on the second to last line could use a little working on to be a little smooth. But the rest of the poem flows very nicely.

[Odysseus Wanders]

Dynamite. Nice creation of ritual space. The voice from the outer world is present in your tone. What a great economy of words to hone in on something so specific. Powerful Images. I 'see' the piece. Really draws you in. Excellent prose.

[CosminDZS]

Thank you for the kind words Terry James, I hope it drew you in to a place of escape.