all done

on a three legged stool I sit real still
perched and silent on a very high hill
the sun starts to rise above the peaks
making no promise of what is to be

antelope and doe roam around all day
the bucks stay hidden not too far away
knowing that they are not free to roam

if they want to stay in this forest loam

my naked eye can spot doe a plenty
all the wrong sex, I ain't gettin any
my browning scope tells tales of none
looks like all of the bucks have run

in my dreams, I am waiting still
for any size rack to crest the hills
but still there isn't, not one single one
even though today, the hunt is all done
Poetry by M.J.B. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License