Winter came
the pines kept their promise and stayed green.
The stream is stagnant
it can’t flow when the sediment settles in its bend.
The heaps of leaves, the ones blown into the woods, flatten with rain and time. Caution tape is stretched in front of the hanging electrical wire, a reminder of the gusts from Hurricane Lee.
A breeze nudges the tips of the pine tree branches as a blaze orange figure crosses the street.
Don’t shoot, the orange screams.
Neighbors trust that when winter comes
hunters will keep their promise to listen.