The Buck

In the shade of the car
By the side of the road
I ate soup and corn cold from the can

A spider climbed my pants leg
Engaged a thumb
Circled the left hand twice
Then tight-rope walked
To a flat blade of grass

I hiked a mile through cypress
And pine, palmetto and scrub oak
Where the black snake coiled
On the warmth of a stone
And the turtle shell bleached white in the sun
Made camp at dusk, gathered wood and tinder

I remember the edge of the galaxy
And the small fire
That brought the bright green tree frog
Out of the grass to feast on flying ants
Lured and singed by the heat of the flames

At dawn the buck sprang from cover
Spooked by the booming of the guns
Galloping full speed
Leaping over camp and cooking fire
Clearing my head by inches

Hoofing it fast for the cypress stand
Beneath the last glow of the stars
With a crescent moon
In the deep sea night
Sailing on the rust-red band of dawn