holding barbed wire down
for my crossing,
helping me up steep, slippery hills
ever watchful for my safety
we hunt, empty wash
grassy hills and
thickly, prickly peared terrain
catching glimpses of our game
ever illusive they are
my browning scoped rifle
8 pounds, my camelback
5 pounds full
warm clothing, heavy
we walk
I do not complain
together we go
searching, seeking
hunting for deer
knapsacks still empty
Poetry by M.J.B. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License
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