From the crow's nest, out in the front,
I spy the Hunter, back from his hunt.
I see his back, well braced and trussed.
Dragging his bounty, without any fuss.
He'd fallen from a ladder, under a tree,
Thrown flat on his back, in front of me.
No walking, no bending, after his fall.
Down for the count, three weeks in all.
How, do you ask, did he bag so much game?
From one day on the hunt, and being so lame?
A trip to Sisters, Oregon, he made in a day.
With two empty coolers, and an invite to play.
He visited friends, who'd gotten new beef.
Cleared out their freezer, assuaged his own grief.
100 lbs...quality ground beef and steak,
Some pot roasts, some sausage...all, he did take.
No rifle, no tent, no wind, rain or sleet,
He rode in his pickup, stayed off of his feet.
The grateful white hunter is home from his day,
His Coleman, his Igloo, his pride, here to stay.
Am I making him eat crow...over his losses, his fall?
No, he was pampered and cared for...because after all,
He missed out on camping, his friends and his beer,
But he came home with a big smile...and a whole lot of steer.
©Michele M. Bilyeu 2007
hunter's 'widow' and quilting wife
shown:
the Crow's Nest, using my dried hydrangeas etc.
3 comments:
Oh, dear, I hope my great white hunter isn't expecting a poem! He is flat out of luck if he is. Right now I think a warm bath, some clean clothes and clean sheets on the bed will do it! He is coming in empty handed, son shot a deer.
That poem is really great, you need to stitch it and then frame it or something.
Hmmm. I'm assuming this is your husband... How long did it take you to write that! It's funny and informative and rhymes!
Your wreath is lovely! I'll try that with my hydrangeas made from your instructions! I especially like the spiders you added!
LOL...ok, this one had me laughing out loud. I've got to be careful, I might wake the toddler!
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