Breakfast in the Country During Hunting Season

Three heads of deer hang on the wall
Where diners eat below.
When leaves discolor they will fall.
We age until we go.

Like leaves we’re all connected, too,
But separate at last.
Those deer look young like children who
Got lost when harsh winds passed.

Tags: breakfast, deer, hunting, leaves, poem, poems, Poetry, poetry blog, poetry writing, poets, poets corner, writing, writing poetry