Its 6:30 winter morning in Eau Claire, Wisconsin.

Walking through snow, thick and fluffy as a marshmello,

I open a box, and pull out a raisin.

The sun peaks and whispers hello.

I search for the monster buck.

Glaring and glazing at the open land,

I sit in my stand, stuck.

I suddenly see the certain brand.

I see the target strutting to its food.

Sweat drips down, bowling up like a dime.

It is the perfect mood.

The perfect time.

I grab my weapon, shivering.

The cold, dark wind punches my head.

The adrenaline makes me brittle.

The deer tries a bite of bread.

I put my crosshairs onto the deer.

I am about to pull the trigger.

I have the slightest bit of fear.

My adrenaline grows.

The deer was small.

I was about to shoot.

Looking down while I was high up, 20 feet tall.

I was about to have a hoot.

I slowly lifted my gun.

I thought that maybe he should be able to live a little longer.

He saw me and started to run.

Deep down I knew I grew stronger.

It was 6:35 winter morning in Eau Claire, Wisconsin.

Looking down at the snow, thick and fluffy as a marshmello.

I picked up the box of raisins.

As the sun continued to say hello.