Final day; final harvest
of the last of the persimmons.
Cutting wood and bringing it under cover.
The goats restless with the smell of autumn rain
a broken tide of clouds darkens at day’s end.
On Hallows Eve they came as silent as ghosts.
but for the whisper of their hoofs swashing the leaves.
They came following the does.
Drunk on pheromone and lust
Tossing the weight of their antlers in empty threats
At the broken moon.
The redwoods were too much for them
The scent of pine oil lathering the air.
They were don quixotes swinging at windmills
as they plowed the redwood saplings to the ground.
In the morning nothing left but broken branches.
The bark rubbed clean from the cambium.
Girdled, the young trees will weaken
and eventually die.
Posted on October 31, 2014, in Caretaking the Forest, Halloween, Psi Keep Center for the Arts, Uncategorized, Unforeseen Events and tagged deer, forest, forest maintenance, grassland conservation, redwoods, white tailed deer, wildlife. Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.