3am wake up to be on time
Layers upon layers to  keep warm
Hiking up to the stand, calmly and quietly
Final touches of eye black to be well hidden

Emptiness, silence throughout the woods
In the distance a bird chirps, chipmunks run the trail
Looking up and seeing seven deer frozen, focused on the hunter
In perfect range, close the lake

Bow leaning against the side of the stand
Pull up the bow against your face
Reaching for the strings against your finger tips
Sights lined up with the deer, it’s a race against time

The deer turns broadside, ready to run
The arrow is placed, ready to fly
The arrow is shot, flying in the air
The deer is shot, falling to the ground

Following the blood trail, knowing it can’t be far
Seeing it on top of the hill, dropping to its side
Gutting the 12-pointer, eating for dinner later
Feeling accomplished, knowing it was freshly killed