Gone Huntin’ – Fisrt Place, Senior Poetry
Gun in hand gear on back
I took the icy steps.
Before the sun a frost had come the moon showed every
To my delight the sun did light each branch and leaf there
Painted trees with snow I see as November often does.
And up I come as did the sun
On yonder ridge I’ll sit.
With gusts or blows of
sleet or snow
I’ll be content with it.
From here this day I’ll sit and say
there’s nowhere else so fine.
So here I’ll wait this frosty morn
and let the hunt be mine.