Turkey Hunting

I read, “I don’t hunt turkeys because I 

want to but because I have to.” 

I thought of what was later said,

the love of having to do what you 

can’t do otherwise.  And how all things

that surround that “have to” are lovable

too.  Regardless what they are; if they 

are attached, they demand the same 

care and consideration as the primary urge

that has chosen you.  Not a bad way 

to live.  I believe one of those Greek 

philosophers called it following “your

daemon.” That which joins the human

and divine and guides your life.

Not a popular idea today that there 

may be something in us that knows 

and cares more about us than we do --

the best thing to do to follow where

we’re lead.  You could say, “Just 

a crazy ass turkey hunter!”  But 

you can’t say you’re not hunting 

for something in this life; it’d be 

nice to have a “have to” leading 

you in your way.

-Byron Hoot

hootnhowlpoetry.com 

In That Moment

In That Moment. . . 

. . . the two deer

were in the tall 

grass on the side

of the road.

I didn’t see them

until I was on them.

The beauty of the scene

and the fear slowed me.

I watched to see

which way they would go.

They took a step.

I drove on thinking 

of beauty, fear 

and the danger

hootnhowlpoetry.com.  

Present For a Moment

The morning is like a Monet painting.  The fog

has blurred the edges of trees and roads,

the colors of grass and trees and sky.

The leaves are shrinking as well and the sun

shines through those new and growing gaps, 

those leaves who could not wait for the first

frost of fall falling like scouts bringing news

of what’s ahead.  And the sacred silence of Sunday

morning is everywhere and will burn off like the fog

in a while leaving only memory and the sense

I may have missed something even as I was 

taking the morning in.  And somehow that sense

creates a longing for what I see and feel to be

utterly seen and felt, known, caught in that phrase, 

“In the fullness of time.”  Those moments all have

and the wonder that fills that time, the desire 

its passing creates.  The way the heart and soul

and mind are never the same afterward, the impossibility

to create a memory like this morning

as it passes by in that sense that forever

has just found a way to be present for a moment.

-Byron Hoot

http://hootnhowlpoetry.com/