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Tribute to a Hunter
  • User dad
  • Poetry / Family
  • 13 views
  • 11 years ago

Writer Notes

I wrote this back in the mid-1970's for my father. We use to go hunting a lot.

Listen to the Reader

T T T
Tribute to a Hunter
By: dad
While hunting along a countryside,
In the cold December wind--
His sporting blood felt satisfied,
By a chill that dwelt within.
And as he turned for home, he called old Bell,
She'd had a long, hard day--
Her flesh was torn by an unkind thorn,
And her coat was soaked with clay.
He knelt to comfort this dear old friend--
And he thought, what fools are we,
To leave our cozy home for this,
Is an age-old mystery.
Through her shivering face came the wisdom and grace,
That told the story true--
For the winds and the thorns and the cold damp clay,
Was a small price for this old dog to pay--
To be a part of this great land,
Under the soothing touch of her master's hand.
And as he sat there in ignorant bliss,
He began to feel a part of this.
He knew the answers were here somewhere--
Then--
An unknown presence filled the air.
The sun was blending through the trees,
The evening's dawn had hushed the breeze--
An ebbtide calm had fallen prey
To the rolling velvet fields of hay.
In quiet sleep this peaceful land, was all he'd need to
feel God's hand
And he thought--
Why, I'm not here to hunt at all--
I've come in answer to a plea,
To feel the hands of God on me.
For here this silent order calls,
Throughout this sacred land--
To the very depths of man's soul,
Were all part of God's great plan.
So now--
I've passed this story onto you, my son--
So that someday you'll understand
Just why it's all so dear to me--
Because that hunter was--"MY OLD MAN!"
Founded by Steve & Judy