The Hunter

The noise of the motor
and gravel crunching,
are all the sounds that I can hear.

as I make my way to
the parking spot,
that I frequent every year.

I park the truck
then kill the motor,
and turn on the interior light,

and with a couple of gulps
I drink the last of the coffee,
that I’ve been sipping on all night.

It was a bit of a drive
from my home in the city,
but it’s worth every moment I spend,

because this time with myself
is so precious,
and it’s a shame whenever it ends.

Quietly, I step out of the truck,
as I put on all my gear,

and from its sheath,
I draw the gun,
that I haven’t seen all year.

I open the breach,
take out two shells,
and place them in the gun,

and I’m excited now
with expectation,
that today will be such fun.

The last of night is melting down,
there’s an orange glow
bringing in the day.

It would be nice to watch
the sun come up,
but I must be on my way.

So I lock the truck,
do one last check,
making sure I turned off the light,

then I sling my gun
onto one shoulder,
and head out into mornings light.

The air is crisp and clean,
and the smell of pine is strong.

It fills my nose with its
fragrant scent,
as I quietly walk along.

Mist is all around me
shielding whatever might be there,

preventing me from seeing game,
but I don’t really care.

For long ago I realized,
hunting was my excuse to be in the wild

To take in the wonders of nature,
and see life through the eyes of a child.

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