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Donald R. Krick Jr.


Utica, NY, US

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The Hunter


Donald R. Krick Jr.

The Hunter lives at edge of woods,
the nearer to his game to be.
He lives to hunt and hunts to live,
itís only aíhunting that he is free.
He rises quick before the sun,
and gently kisses his sleeping mate.
He dons his cloths and then is gone,
to keep a hunterís early date.
On frost rimed leaves he greets the day,
as he silently stalks the game he seeks,
a trophy buck who haunts his woods,
a buck heís hunted for many weeks.
Through the woods he gently steps,
no sound he makes to scare his prey.
With a hunterís sense he knows itís true,
heíll see that trophy buck today.
The hours pass, the sun grows warm,
but patience is his middle name.
He keeps on stalking through his woods,
Ďtill like a vision he sees his game.
The buck stands regally on a ridge,
he raises his weapon with steady hand.
His heart does pound, and his blood runs hot,
itís just he and the buck in all the land.
But the buck must sense his presence here,
he turns his head and casts a glance.
For a frozen moment theyíre eye to eye,
Then the Hunter passes his golden chance.
He lowers the gun, and starts to shout:
"Go on, Go on, be on your way!"
And as the buck runs off, he starts to smile,
"Youíll not be dying here today."
He and this buck have played this game,
for so long now that they are friends.
And the Hunter knows heíll never shoot,
for that is when the challenge ends.
The Hunter makes his way back home,
where his wife has made a hearty meal.
She knows her Hunter, and knows this game,
and knows just how it makes him feel.
"You saw no game?" she warmly asks,
and she knows just what her man will say.
He sits to eat, and smiles back,
and then he answers: "Not today."