Saturday, November 3, 2018

The First Day of Deer Season (a catchy and original title, eh!) - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

The First Day of Deer Season

The first shots slammed across the woods at dawn
Into my sleep, there taking down my dreams
Which can’t be slung into a pickup truck
And carried to the processors by noon

Venison is a bit gamey, of course:
That’s why they call it game, wild game, then food
Blended with pork and spices for Thanksgiving
And that’s a nice little dream in itself

Let’s not indulge sentimentality here
In forest glades or on china plates – it’s just a deer

No comments: