A Poem: Covert | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Chronogram Magazine

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A Poem: Covert



Today was bad territory

Leaf littered shale, masking quarry

We ran along the mountain's spine

A view lost in time

The Catskills' silhouette loped a distant sky

Quilted fields thrown across hills taking my eye

Autumn has a warm deceit

Luring hunters and prey without retreat

The ground was wet and cold

Our horses were hard to hold

We could hear a deep hound voice

Then couple after couple began to rejoice

It was coyote scent that rose

To greet each hound nose

Full cry, whip's yelp, huntsman's horn

Flat out gallop through bramble, mud and thorn.

We hoed up on a greasy bend to find a woman strewn

Her breathing shallow, her bones in ruin

Alive or dead we could not know

So in hunting it can go

Our hides may differ but we really are the same

Sometimes the predator ends in game

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