The Buck Sleeps Here - a poem of a wildlife encounter

It was the perfect place
trees to break chilly breezes
a pine to lay under
on those snowy cold nights
with a bed of leaves
to rest upon in comfort

It was too damned perfect
I should have known that
and in the dark hours
before the frozen dawn broke
its other user showed up
irritated I used His bed.

He let me know it
with no doubts being left
pawing the ground quite harshly
rattling the branches with antlers
as he paced out there
demanding the bower he made.

When I did not move
at the speed he desired
to vacate the premises post-haste
He walked on through it
keeping a distance but still
letting me know his displeasure.

So I dragged my stuff
and left that sweet spot
as he claimed it again
rolling to disturb the leaves
and remove my scent quickly
for the buck sleeps here.
(11/27/2011) - Dyfedd Rex

BullFinche's Philology - a poem from a challenge/improv prompt

-Gaz is to blame for this one, he tossed out a prompt that sat there, stale as we all tried to think of something to answer it with... this was my ice-jam destroyer... brute forced, but I still like it..
The goldfinches had all gathered up
around the feeder in the cold
enjoying the moment under the pines
free from preying of the hawks
circling high above in patient waiting
for one to pop out foolishly
like the cardinals had just yesterday
inviting them down for a brunch.
When in came mister brown finch
from the farmlands all around town
to gossip for a shot while.
He sang and warbled the praises
of fields he had recently visited
and the joys of sharing grass
with cattle, sheep and even goats
as the pretty yellow city ladies
listened with eyes glazing over slowly
realizing he had been around bulls
far too long this last migration
for he was as full of manure
as the long words he tweeted
Not even noting as he bounced
from the safety of evergreens' cover
the diving of that cooper's hawk
Come to take Brown Finch off
to a dinner where he starred
as the desert before hare entree.
　

A gem of a find in Cheyenne

A Gem of a find...

So I found the bus depot at last in Cheyenne, only to discover the bus would not leave until Three, (yes, 3!) A.M. This at about 5 in the afternoon. That left time to kill and recover some mobility, as just sitting for a few moments had locked up my legs tighter than still flowered maiden...

So there I was, sore as heck from hauling around two heavy packs all over town as said before. Walking had to be done, but it made me want to scream as I tried to work it out after the cab ride, and arranging the bus ride to SLC, a decision made by not having enough to go to Reno or Vegas and still have anything to gamble against whoever has been messing with my life of late.

And there, where once lived a larger resturaunt than now there, was a blast from the past. A board and RPG playing game store. Not just the kind's now made to try luring the kids out of those addictive video games that do not teach them the things that you learn over a table, with the other people there, so you can soak up the adoration, or be pelted by the dirty looks of those who have learned in the quick the meanings of Hate and jealousy.

This store, and for a change, as this guy is just starting up, is called Cyborgs, Puzzles and Games. I know, I say I won't reveal things like that, but heck, its starting up when the economy is still staggering around like a bad extra actor in a drinking scene from a Mel Brooks spoof movie. I admmunmire that kind of determination, and the owner showed a great deal of salesmanship, but I was safely by way of being broke. I still bought the sodas I needed to stay awake from him, as we talked away.

Its Owner, Marshall, waved me in as he saw me reading over his signage with the look of a man who knew games. Yeah, I grew up on RPG's, not the wimpy electronic ones, but the real things. Toon, Car Wars with our characters moving on in the original rules, several other board games of strategy over the years, and of course, the ongoing games of D&D we ran for a decade, and a bit more even. He had high end puzzles made with superior craftsmanship and imported from Europe, as American manufacturers had not made any he could pass along to his core crowd, and you have to keep the main audience, even if expanding the old. Marshall spoke of the difficulties, how things were tough, but he still had hopes. I do too. This guy, in the face of the downturn, and the unceratain hiccups yet to come that could eat his dream up in a roller wave of earth or sea, to be sacrificed to save the big box stores.

Yet he is staring it down, and doing the fight. Not without his trials, but he is giving it a try, something fewer and fewer folk tend to do in a tight resources situation. We tend to sit on it, not swing it wide asa credit score lasso to find a steer that has wandered off.


So if you are out there, in the Cheyenne area, up off I-25 and Central exit, and are a gamer, give him a try, he has gaming tables set up in there, and a great selection of newer and older strategy games there, you can even go in and play one first, if he has a demo version available at the time. Think about that, he offers up the trial of the games, just like at an auto dealer, lets see the big boys do that with more than demo versions of the electric games.

And that is me violating my own rule, but I enjoyed the conversation, even amidst the pains of my week from Hell.