Poem: Graham Island
Written May 23, 2017
When I looked out the back window
All I could see was
The mountain road curving downward behind us
There was a lot of
Small green new growth trees
All I could hear was
the gravel under the tires of my uncle’s truck
Then the blast of the gun.
I followed the bullet over the young tree-tops.
The deer must have liked to eat the leaves.
by Wendy Stewart