i dropped acid

mr natural sunshine blotter

to be specific

given by a house painter friend

i got the 12 gauge and shell vest

called up Smokestack the bird dog

and drove to a vast Oklahoma hunting preserve

after Smokestack had pissed on enough bushes

and i was geared up, locked and loaded

we walked off into the trees and meadows

all brown and gray and olive drab

dead grass snapped and whispered as we passed

going nowhere in particular

just me following my dog

in the crisp fall woods

Smokestack moved in quick short arcs

his nose in the grass

then stopped dead, leaning taut, pointing at a thick hummock

quail burst from the grass

small camouflaged explosions

accelerating straight up then out

Smokestack jumped forward

enthralled, the gun cradled unused in my arm

i watched them go, glide and land

invisible in the tree line

we walked on into a large clearing

grass waist high

i sat down, the grass tops above my head

shotgun resting across my lap

Smokestack was ranging about far away

i could hear his every move

small creatures scurried about and dug into the earth

birds chittered and spoke to me from the trees

the grass moved gently with the wind

playing the quiet symphony of the fields

after some while, for time had little meaning

i whistled up my dog

and we went home

11/27/18
Copyright Michael Douglas Scott