Another Old Man Musing as he debates hunting on a wet afternoon.
If I was serious, I'd go. Deer move after a heavy rain. But, do I really need to...go? That much aint quite, soaked into my brain.
I aint gonna starve, I've meat in the freezer. Is shooting something at last light, The right thing for an old geezer? Be stumblin around, like last year, one night.
Trippin and falling, big gash on one arm. Why not wait till morning, as the light filters through? Breeze movin leaves, comfortable warm. Sunlight makes prisms in the linger dew.
Let her come then, head bobbin and all. l'll grin behind my face mask. Shoot or not, it's my call. Yes or no, it's my question to ask.
No fawn by her side. Not a spot do I see. Take the shot or let her slide? It's all up to me.
No longer hunt horns. Now, antlers mean zip. It's all sunrise and scenery. Like perfect coffee, first sip.
Yes, I eat deer meat. I eat it a lot. Some call it venison Some call it snot.
But not head, nor hide, nor horns nor meat. That aint why, I sit and watch. Sometimes sweat, sometimes half-frozen feet. It's that feelin you get, plumb down to your crotch.