October 2021, Near a Washington State River
On my truck gate, pulling up waders,
branches snap in morning dark as a cougar stalks me.
When it gets closer, I re-enter and wait
until
a fellow angler arrives and we descend
in canyon.
We split at two trails, and the cougar follows me.
I toss rocks and yell at it.
Later, under stars, I reflect if
this were
a metaphor for global climate response,
I would wear a blindfold, hang a
T-bone steak
on my neck, go back in forest
whispering
“Here kitty, kitty,” and hope nothing happens.
In other poetry news, I'm grateful to former Associate Professor of English and Creative Writing at University of Alabama Heidi Lynn Staples for accepting my poem "When I Lived Upriver" in her project Hold Our Breath 2040: Artists and Writers Reimagine Forestation, an international creative digital commemoration of afforestation efforts to address climate change. I also appreciate Flyfishing & Tying Journal for including two of my poems in the next issue.
Thank you to the recent 222 visitors from Sweden, 117 from Russia, 92 from Germany, 18 from Hong Kong, 18 from Senegal, 17 from Canada, 17 from Indonesia, 10 from United Kingdom, and 5 from Spain.
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