Butterscotch Sun
by Benjamin Thomas Nash



Silent until
jack rabbit jump at twilight,
a self-reliant ranger
listening,

an armadillo,
soldiers from Mexico,
it's bitter cold sitting on this
deer stand,

dogs
chasing coons,
a yellow one in Texas,
cowboys roping wild cougars,

mesquite,
mean gunslingers
riding through the blackjack,
dark are their faces,

and there are steps,
sounds in the rustling trees,
around the
cactus,

whitetail,
maybe it's Comanche,
a boy heavy with reading
holds a rifle,

looking,
waiting,
warmed by a butterscotch
sun.





Illya's Honey Literary Journal

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