Thanksgiving Fisher

all around the great dead oak as darkness falls

a fisher dances hunting white-footed mice

a dark sine curve against the snow

that is also somehow able to freeze for long minutes

crouching pouncing coming up empty

it is only i sitting across the frozen pond

who leaves feeling fuller than before

filled i suppose with seasonally appropriate gratitude

for this beautiful small beast with its wild blood-lust

for my encounter with it once in a new moon

for the freedom it still enjoys to disappear