The Deer Stand.

In dark of morning, Bolt action in hand.

I make my way to the old Deer stand.

Crunching of leaves in silence of the night.

I am a spectacle of many a Deer's sight.

Up the ladder, step by step.

Of total silence, I am inept.

I hope my scent is not given of me.

Because with the Deer's nose, they can see.

Must place the shot, precision through Heart.

Oh No! Last night's beans. A Fart.

The wind blows it back and clear.

Please no more clues to give the Deer.

Waiting patiently for that big Buck.

I’ve practiced my skill, now some luck.

In the brush, I see some great motion.

Hopes of a big Buck, that’s my notion.

Out steps a Doe with a fawn in tow.

Dashes my hopes. my heart sinks low.

She walks away, taking her child.

That’s the way it works in the wild.

Waiting for a large body and big horn.

As the day matures, it brings in the morn.

The quiet and solace bring me much more.

Traditions, legacy, and, good folklore.

Sitting still, engaged in active chase.

Woven in nature, held together by grace.

Nothing came by. The hunt is done.

It is told by time and the rising sun.

It was a great hunt My soul could hear it.

It spoke of nature, and God’s good spirit.

Didn’t want to go. Could sit here for hours.

Feeling the calm, and Nature's great powers.

Inside me, I give the creator a nod.

But wait! Can I believe in God?

So, what did I hear, what did I feel?

Somehow, I’m part of the great big Wheel.

As I climb out, pack and rifle in hand.

So much I learn in the old deer stand.

Kasey Dann.