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The shot
October 2, 2014
The cold air bites as it turns to night
On bois blanc island,
I sit in the blind with a deer in mind,
With nothing in sight I sit in fright,
Of not coming home with anything.
Slowly and lowly do they come
And with them a long silence “................................”
When it almost felt like it was time to run
I lift the gun to have some fun
In ready position to fire.
I squeezed slowly and there it went.
The deer scattered as the air shattered,
One stops and hops
and falls with a big THUMP!
© Todd V., Neoga, IL
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