{"id":2150,"date":"2013-07-03T01:24:21","date_gmt":"2013-07-03T01:24:21","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/?page_id=2150"},"modified":"2013-07-03T01:24:21","modified_gmt":"2013-07-03T01:24:21","slug":"gereutter-713","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/gereutter-713\/","title":{"rendered":"G Emil Reutter, July 2013"},"content":{"rendered":"

Urban Woodlands<\/strong><\/p>\n

\n

Entering the West Woodlands across the road from the grassy picnic<\/p>\n

area just past a bench sleeping in the afternoon sun, two paths: a cinder<\/p>\n

one ropes around the woods and a dirt path snakes through trees and<\/p>\n

underbrush into a small valley, where a no name brook eases its way out<\/p>\n

of the city.<\/p>\n

\n

Under nature\u2019s quilt of foliage, chipmunks, robins, a lone deer, who<\/p>\n

trots off upon approach. An abandoned hunter\u2019s lean-to sits just above<\/p>\n

\u00a0in a sycamore whose skin is peeling. Just across the brook in a clearing<\/p>\n

a rope swing hangs in the air like an unfinished spider web swaying in<\/p>\n

wind. A hawk rides currents; an old fireplace encased in stone with man\u2019s<\/p>\n

quilt of empty beer cans, cigarette butts and graffiti scared trunks.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

At the top of a ridge, he sits in a canvass chair, large black bible on his lap<\/p>\n

flips pages in his loneliness, offers tracts to people passing by. Sits here for<\/p>\n

\u00a0hours each day under trees canopies, reads his bible and returns to his row<\/p>\n

home when the sun descends the sky. He doesn\u2019t explore the woodlands<\/p>\n

this old man has found his spot.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

g emil reutter lives and writes in the Fox Chase neighborhood of Philadelphia, Pa. He can be found athttp:\/\/gereutter.wordpress.com\/<\/a>\u00a0and\u00a0www.gemilreutter-author.com<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Urban Woodlands Entering the West Woodlands across the road from the grassy picnic area just past a bench sleeping in the afternoon sun, two paths: a cinder one ropes around the woods and a dirt path snakes through trees and underbrush into a small valley, where a no name brook eases its way out of […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":934,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-2150","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"\nG Emil Reutter, July 2013 - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/gereutter-713\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"G Emil Reutter, July 2013 - 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