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repatition poem
January 28, 2015
Waiting Games
Waiting, waiting, waiting.
In that tree I sit.
I hear them rattling.
I see him or a bit.
Finally he comes from the brush darting.
I drew back and hit.
Then the jump and he went bursting.
I saw the arrow it was split.
It was so exciting.
I found him I owe it all to the bleating.
I grabbed him and began gutting.
After that I was at the taxidermist lickety-split.
Because I knew one day he’d be a mounting!
© Katherine W., Tok, AK
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