Fallen Warrior

A sacred September weekend finds three generations sixteen miles up the hillside. Two blue pickups, one dull to gray, the other as striking as the sea, both scratched by branches on the narrow path. Kids scatter away from the gas-powered snarl to explore until their help is called upon.

spongy moss
forms emerald tablecloth
secluded picnic

Rusty cedar skeletons decompose in the children's secret glade. Foot-long bunches of glossy grasses sit in stillness. Breeze through the roadside poplars allows a soft rustle to overcome the saw. Quick tap on a spore releases a slowly dispersing olive cloud.

A crack splits the tranquility. An uncertain pause as the tree, long-dead, fights for position. Fulfillment comes in a crash so loud it is barely heard. Return to the moment, rush, rush to find the giant that will heat grandfather's home. Proud smiles and a tape measure—38 inch diameter, a new record.

poppa’s final conquest
two fallen warriors

Kevin Hogg is a high school English and Law teacher in British Columbia's Rocky Mountains. He holds a Master of Arts degree in English Literature from Carleton University, and he has published poetry with Inner Art Journal, Mouse Tales Press, Foliate Oak, Nine, and Little Rose Magazine. Outside of writing, Kevin enjoys thistles, pie, and symmetry. His website is http://kevinhogg.ca