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The Blizzard (A Story Poem) He hunted alone and only with bow and arrow. In his haste this day he had not waited for the latest on the weather. With light feather steps he followed fresh deer tracks deep into the snowy wood; then stopped abruptly, hearing a crackle pierce the silence. In a clearing just ahead it stood. Motionless, behind a tree the hunter barely breathed lest the white-tail buck sense his presence. Time seemed suspended as the hunter's arrow flew. In that same instant the deer knew and with a graceful arch leapt across a fallen birch. He bled a crimson trail that led the hunter on his final chase. A trail that quickly disappeared beneath a cold white sheet of blinding blizzard that numbed the hunter's heart and froze his feet. The white-tail buck some way ahead heaved his final sigh, then found peace; buried soon beneath a mound of ice. Hopelessly lost in dense forest, the exhausted hunter numbly stumbled on. His last thoughts likely were of warmth, of hearth, and loved ones at home. Next day a ranger happening upon the hunter knelt to get a closer look. He felt a sudden shiver as he peered into that stony face; then noted on the hunter's back his quiver still in place. The ranger later would recount the tale of how he found that day two frozen forms; first the hunter, then, a mere ten yards away lay his white-tail prey. |
Additional Notes:
Sorry, folks, I guess snow has just been on my mind lately..........
This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2004-01-04 10:25:34
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.50000
He hunted alone and only
with bow and arrow.
In his haste this day he had
not waited for the latest
on the weather.
Good A o assonance in this lovely opening
With light feather steps
he followed fresh deer tracks
and "f" alliteration here
......
His last thoughts likely
were of warmth, of hearth,
and loved ones
at home.
Yes...but thinks nothing of wanting to take such a beautiful life...good irony and excellent ending.