Vested

Orange Vest 

On an old shale logging road
we cross one stream, another,
farther and farther

stirring our own sap upward,
sluggish, we meander on instinct,
pick up the pace in our woods  

we’ve walked over and over

a hundred acres is what it takes
to lose track of what infiltrates

headlines of papers and posts;
we pass the remnant of a fence
rubble mound of a cairn

on a slope of land an echo

away from hunters domain
our dominion ribboned in

rays that splinter through trees,
we proceed vested as human-
kind to remind we are not prey

~ LCMH