INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
Richard Gartee
Fahredin Shehu
Steve Barfield
Silvia Scheibli
Laszlo Slomovitz
Shutta Crum
Running Cub
Sodiq O. Alabi
Stephen Sleboda
Alan Britt
Aneek Chatterjee
John Grey
Michael Lee Johnson
Robert Nisbet
Jennifer Burd
Alica Mathias
Roo Bardookie
Gale Acuff
Alex Ferde
Fred Wolven
Ann Arbor Review
is an independent
International Journal & ezine
Copyright (c) 2022 Francis Ferde
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida
-------------------------
Copyright (c) 2022 Francis Ferde
STAFF:
Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven
submissions: email:
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida
I RISE FROM MY CORNER BUNK,
carefully moving toward the entrance
picking up my bow and arrow package then my deer rifle and shells, and
finally both our lunch bucket and warm cap for comfort tin the chilling autumn air already turning this November.
stepping quietly through the open doorway I see both
our father and my older brother were waiting outside.
Instantly feeling the cooling breeze I realize my snug
flannel jacket was a wise choice.
Father had marked a trail easy to follow on the deerskin map
last night so we would be wasting no time making that decision
now. And the sun was coming up over the horizon as we set
off on the day's adventure in search of whatever game the
Everglades would provide our family's winter. I was eager.
to discover what we would find today.
Running Cub, Everglades