My chair in the forest is a rock.
My footstool is a log.
Nothing moves but the wind.

The eyes of every hunted creature are upon me
But I only sense their presence
As they silently move away.

Today I am not a hunter.
The Ruffed Grouse can fly freely
In the cedar trees and pines

Solitude is all I want.
The deer can run and
Tattletale Blue Jays can be silent.

Yellow rays begin to break
Through heavy mist and
Banish the chill from my heart.

There is no room in my mind
For anything but the smell
Of wood and water.

A tear is hardly noticed
Falling to the ground
Joining the drops of dew.

Beating wings softly land
On the leaves in front of me
And three startled eyes meet.

We make no sound.
We do not move.
Frozen ...like photographs of you.