Per Cod

TACITURN SUNDAY

Nothing quite like it, you know
The feel of a Sunday in the fields
Away from the city lights and noise
Just before they get covered with snow
Where nature silence let you drop your shields
Just yourself and a mate hunting black grouse

There’s no need to speak
Nothing needs be said
Silence broken only by birds and dogs
And a cheerful whistle at times
Sun shining
Light breeze through the trees
Deer in the woods
Eagle in the sky above

These are nice grounds, Per
Rolls another smoke
Kettle’s on the fire
Smell of coffee
Bandit Country
He says
Looking across the lake
Along the ridge
Between the trees
Funny, he says
Half expect an ambush
Like the Catholics,
have their eyes on us
Coffee?
Pours a cup for me
Moves behind the stone wall

I don’t say anything
No need to speak
At least there’s no Jallahs here
I think to myself
And get behind the wall
Into the sun

©Copyright October 12, 2004 by Per Cod

Submitted for the October 2004 IWVPA Club Theme Project, “Taciturnity”