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
breath.

To my delight the sun did light each branch and leaf there
was.

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.

Categories: Youth Writing Contest

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