Grey skies
old cranky skeletons of brush
and brambles
the hillside all over umbers and glazes of van dyke brown
the reaching of the bare storm darkened branches
the canvas collar pulled up over the handspun sweater
to ward off the cool morning air
the hard straight iron rails
rusting on their bed of creosote ties and gravel
a mile or more
to travel out and then double back
heavy leather boots remembering old ground hog holes
head down
in search of new ones
and up ahead
running in and out of the milkweed
and the lacey ice encrusted cattail swamps
the scout
the graceful silky black bear of a bernese mt. dog
my sweet Gulliver
kind enough to take me
along on her
travels.