The Deer Hunter

It was a cool, crisp morning that November day
As I climbed into my stand.
Mother Nature was asleep, it was just before dawn,
And the only sound was the wind.
As I took my seat, I thought of the hunt.
I wandered if I would have good luck.
What would I see from my stand that day?
Would I bag my trophy buck?

At the first light of day, the first sound I heard
Was the "caw, caw, caw" of a crow.
I watched him and listened to his wakeup call
As I sat there with my bow.
As they awoke, the birds chirped, and a squirrel
hunted acorns
As the nighttime slowly turned into dawn.
Then, suddenly, out from the brush and into the clearing
Stepped a doe and her two fawns.

My focus turned to them as my heart beat faster.
I was hoping they were followed by my prize.
I became perfectly still - I tried to breathe slowly -
As I followed their movements with my eyes.
The two fawns played and danced around their mother,
Not unlike the manner of a child.
But, at the slightest sound, their ears perked up
To alert them to the dangers of the wild.

After a while, the animals wandered off, and I was alone.
The only sound left was the wind.
No trophy this day, but it didn't matter.
What a great day it had been!
For you see, a true hunter lives for the hunt,
And not only for the kill.
To witness God's creation, and to be a part,
For a true hunter, that's the thrill!

Pat Canuteson
1994 All Rights Reserved


Framed 9"x12"
Framed Poem


Matted 9"x12"
Matted Poem

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