Into Evening

(Here’s the last of the Carlson triad)
A partridge is flushed
from the trailside brush
    in late September’s slanting rays.
Heavy pressure
    as the wings lift
    up and away, almost free
    in slow motion flight
    to the line of pines
    just yards away.
This  moment is pregnant
    with life and death –
    the trigger compressed
    the arrows released.
The action is now, the drama is old,
    as the hunt unfolds
Into evening.
bc

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