It never fails something is either tangled, stuck, loud or slippery when getting in stand in the morning.
This morning's hunt in the dark was eventful as usual so as I settled in the stand, I wrote my first ever poem:
Morning Hunter's Poem:
Off to hunt here I go
4:00 am as you know
Here I fumble in the dark
Pull ropes snagged on some bark
Easing up my climbing sticks
The metal squeaks cause they're slick
Stepping onto the stand,
I get a cut across my hand
As I pull up my bow
My quiver gets stuck down below
10 minutes till legal light
Nothing went smooth as I like
Setting up when it's night
Is never easy like daylight
Now I settle in the tree
I take a deep breath and feel relieved
Thank you Lord for this the day
May a trophy come my way
This morning's hunt in the dark was eventful as usual so as I settled in the stand, I wrote my first ever poem:
Morning Hunter's Poem:
Off to hunt here I go
4:00 am as you know
Here I fumble in the dark
Pull ropes snagged on some bark
Easing up my climbing sticks
The metal squeaks cause they're slick
Stepping onto the stand,
I get a cut across my hand
As I pull up my bow
My quiver gets stuck down below
10 minutes till legal light
Nothing went smooth as I like
Setting up when it's night
Is never easy like daylight
Now I settle in the tree
I take a deep breath and feel relieved
Thank you Lord for this the day
May a trophy come my way
