The famous leaves have blown off.
I'm standing in a parking lot
off the freeway
watching the sunrise
over Osceola County.
It's a purple dawn
with stars glittering like frost on God's windshield.
The horizon rim is blaze orange.
Soon it will be firearms deer season.
Death and deer are tiptoeing
through the noisy leaves.
The colors are shadows of browns,
grays and hang-tough greens.
Weak sun rays slant a golden
haze through bare trees.
I was born in November.
The sights and smells
set off primal memories.
My nose gets sentimental
over the cold and decaying,
or it could be allergies.
With Election Day tomorrow and firearms deer season opening ten days later, we'll be experiencing some of the most divisive battles of the year; Republicans vs. Democrats, deer vs. hunters, and hunters vs. anti-hunters.
I have a friend who was having trouble with deer eating grapes and plants in his garden. I told him to take a radio out there, and tune it to Rush on talk radio. That will keep the deer away. He said he didn't know deer were Democrats.
I deer hunt, but as I grow older I tend to root for the deer, and I have empathy for those who don't believe in hunting. Death isn't a small thing even to a buck, and especially a 63-year-old man standing over it. I always say thanks to a deer if I get one. I don't know if any spirit hears me, or if the buck cares, but I say thank you anyway.
Some scientists and philosophers say that deer don't reason or remember. Most people feel the same way about people who vote differently than them.
I can't think of one political road sign, bumper sticker, or propaganda advertisement on TV that's ever changed my opinion on how to vote. However, if a business owner plasters their place with political signs I don't like, I take my shopping or appetite elsewhere.
In the past I've put political signs up on Stone Circle property along U.S. 31. They usually got vandalized.
Where we live is surrounded by woods and overgrown fields. The deer and other animals are constantly walking around our house.
The woods have a rhythm the deer belong to. They walk like good dancers. I never get tired of watching deer. That's more than I can say about most politicians. I wish after tomorrow all this mean spiritedness would end, but I know it won't.