The forest opens up this time of year,
there's a chill in the air for ventures so dear.
Walking quiet is difficult on a carpet of leaves,
But they are hiding until it is clear.
Putting away fat and stores for the winter ahead.
Smoke rises in the distance, joining rotting leaves.
Hunter sits quietly and waits for the sound.
Shoots with skill to make a clean kill,
A time-honored pastime to put food on the table,
The greatest feeling is to spot a big brash buck,
Heart races as the antlers come into range,
Gun's report echoes through the valley and trees,
The family won't go hungry this winter of cold.
My twin brother and I after a successful hunt for
Remembering the joy of wandering off into the woods 11/23/17