Robert Young - Several Days Before December

Eleven gentlemen set out, soon to be immersed in the trees.
Dressed warm and smart, the November air was cloaked around them tight
With their rifles nestled comfortably against their chests.

While soft foliage and rotting wood bore them,
Dust settled silently and the grey sky darkened still.
Their heavy breathing filled the space, punctuated
Infrequently by a pause in thought.

Delicate branches fell onto the rug beneath; old bark
Sank further into the mud and the wind rolled greying
Acorns away from where the frail oak then stood.

When each could no longer see the next man, they began to return; one by one.

Robert Young

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/several-days-before-december/