In the Meadow



In the meadow down the hill
an old buck meanders about
in pursuit of the lovely scent
of fresh green on fruit trees
     A civilized gentleman
     in an uncivilized world 

Within the week the orchard
will be shorn to his eye level
clipped neatly from beneath
as if by a boot camp barber
     It is nature’s routine
     to tidy the wilderness

Along the wired fence line
the doe and her two fauns
pace with anxious attention
an eye ever on the old stud
     Caution is a birthright
     Wisdom is accumulated


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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3 Responses to In the Meadow

  1. I visioned my Partners grandpas home I visited in Italy…the vast forest…the nature, the survival stories told. Wonderful life prose, Peter :)


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