We were out hunting,
the woods all golden,
two parents and four kids
walking along a skidder trail.
I spied a bird
high on his perch,
a vivid speck against the blue.
The allure too much,
my brother tried to shoot it.
The bullet flew off to another planet.
I laughed. He turned red.
“You do it, then,” he said.
I took the gun,
spread my legs to balance,
aimed up to heaven,
and pulled the trigger.
That bird fell
right at my feet,
fat and warm.
The leaves
crunched like remorse
as we quietly made our way
back out of the woods.
11 comments:
Ahhh!!!! I'm so sorry. Isn't it weird how brothers had the power to make us raise to the challenge but the victory wasn't as sweet as we were led to believe?
http://lori102870.blogspot.com/2009/04/it-flows-freelynapowrimo-16by-me.html
I can see why you didn't want to remember that. Very vivid
"The leaves / crunched like remorse" is a powerful sound and visual image.
Phew, but you'd have thought that the sound of the first shot would have frightenrd the bird away.
You know, I hunt, but the first (and only) time I killed a songbird with my BB gun, I was so remorseful. I stick with wild game now - and always eat what I shoot. (Good thing I'm not on the frontier, or else I would have starved by now anyway.)
Powerful and heartbreaking.
Very much an unforgettable memory. You summarized the mixed emotions quite well.
The vivid pictures you paint make this so poignant.
Leaves crunching like remorse-- wonderful line.
The leaves/crunched like remorse
I was stunned. Very effective line and image.
Excellent poem and use of prompt words. Well done.
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