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
