Thanksgiving Fisher

all around the great dead oak
as darkness falls

a fisher dances
hunting white-footed mice

a dark sine curve
against the snow

that is also somehow able
to freeze for long minutes

crouching pouncing
coming up empty

it is only i sitting across
the frozen pond

who leaves feeling
fuller than before

filled i suppose with seasonally
appropriate gratitude

for this beautiful small beast
with its wild blood-lust

for my encounter with it
once in a new moon

for the freedom it still enjoys
to disappear

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