DECEMBER SECOND

Perched

Right outside the back door a Plume Moth is gently perched on the siding. Unique, tiny, and intriguing, but out of context. “It’s December. De.cem.ber.” I mumble out loud to remind myself, and possibly the moth, before turning to stand barefoot on the deck with significant bed-head and a cup of coffee. The dog stands in the soggy yard nosing no breeze, seeing no squirrels, and listening to the sound of leaves brownly settling into a denser and denser layer in wide patches on the grass. Her ears perk and radar toward the sound of the earth alive and dying beneath her paws. “We’re definitely wiping your feet before you come inside, dopey,” I tell her. She looks brightly at me, wags once, and bolts from her place toward the porch.

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6 Comments

Filed under In the woods, Poetry

6 responses to “DECEMBER SECOND

  1. And a fine good morning to you too, sir. Always a pleasure to hear from the poet. Always.

    • fishingpoet

      Hey, Mike!
      Great to hear from you too. It’s been a bit, but I’m holding steady up here. Hope you are well also, brother.

  2. “nosing no breeze”… I like that image a lot.

    • fishingpoet

      Well, hey there, Erin! Yea, she’s a funny one to watch when she gets her faculties working on still mornings “)
      Great to hear from you! Hope you guys are well.

  3. Dopey. I refer to our puppy as Goober. I suppose that’s all the same. Good to hear from you, man. Hope the Steel have been tugging on your line.

    • fishingpoet

      Great to hear from you, Steve! I bet she’d respond to Goober, too “) I have managed a little steel and some brown this fall. My daughter got her first deer too. I love this time of year. Hope you’re well.

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