• There was snow on the corner, I believe.
    A chill in the air may have left me breathless.

    There had never been nights like these...
    Or maybe the weather had been careless,
    Just for tonight.

    The dim red glow of parked lights
    And the mist of heated breath...

    It was all that told on the cold, cold road
    We were here bringing death.

    The thunder of a twig and the trail of a dying light
    Told me somewhere the work had been done.

    A scraping noise, ah yes...
    He dragged it along the ground.

    He smiled at me, dark shape over his shoulder.
    His cigarette caught the wind.
    It was dark again.

    We must have looked unusual, heaving and pulling.
    It wouldn't sit right on the car, limbs dangling.

    We caught the light of a cop, dirty piss yellow,
    An unwelcome color on snow in any circumstance.

    He didn't smile.
    The set of his shoulders told us all we needed to know.
    He handed us some cord and we began working.

    Before he left, our eyes met.
    He gave only a nod to our bundle
    And left.

    It was cold in the car as we drove home.
    That was when I knew we had to turn around,
    Had to go back.

    We had forgotten a tree stand.