about the rain
in the forest,
waiting for a coonhound to open.
The precipitation soaks to the bone.
A price happily paid
For this purchase in the dark.
And when that bawl comes
separating wet torrents,
the coon hunter steals silently toward the hound, inseparable
the forest without and within,
A purpose known.
A promise honored.
A bond unbroken.
Now, I can train a hound.
Occasionally, I can sling some words together to make a halfway decent sentence.
But my photography/video skills need much to be desired.
Here you see Seth (Ol' Buck is somewhere off screen)
and me switching from my walking light to the red light
I'd already located the raccoon, but guessing where my phone is pointing
(with a coon squaller in my mouth, I hasten to add)
might be asking a little much of this old man.
Still, you can see the critter's eyes just below where I flash my headlamp.