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CHAIN OF MEMORIES Opening day of each new season finds me sitting in my deerblind. Thoughts of many seasons past reflecting in my mind. Armed for the season with my knife, my hope, my gun. I sit quiet in the darkness welcoming an early rising sun. Eyes piercing total darkness I await the coming of the dawn. Chilled wind bites it's greeting gentle summer breeze is gone. My rifle rests across my lap waiting that first scope of light. That moment slowly encroaching anticipated since last night. Far too many times my prayers have been much too belated. But for a morning such as this I thank God for what He's created. I'm grateful my dad taught me to hunt and for memories we have shared. Thankful for all those good times, traditions which we've both cared. Traditions, history and fond memories forever lives the reason, That lures me back into the woods to enjoy another hunting season. The magic of the season most abundant all around. Listening ears straining harder for any distant sound. A thunderous rifle blasts-off in a far off distance. Signaling the first buck of the season probably just met resistance. A woodpecker drilling on a limb from not so far away, Brings me back to reality of why I'm sitting here today. Some rustling leaves behind me alerts a sudden piercing chill. I turn to see a squirrel scampering the cause of my sullen thrill. Oak leaf clusters rattle now but still seems a peaceful sound. But a squawking blue jay causes my heart to pump and pound. Could it be a buck just woke him and he's sending me his warning? Alerting me to get ready for the harvest of this magic morning? If the trophy should elude me I shan't never really care. For it's the beauty of each memory that I really long to share. For in a blind not far away sits my young partner, my own son. He's also thankful his dad taught him of nature's victories to be won. He know today, too soon just a memory just a present time forever gone. Still he looks forward to tomorrows to many future morning's dawn. He's learned not killing nor trophies will ever measure his success. But the sharing of our hunt today that tomorrow he'll most bless. He's tagged along these past nine years since his tender age of four. Looking forward to next season, at fourteen for his own chance to finally score. The legal age to add his final weapon to his arsenal of hope and his hunting knife. I'll just add another link of memoirs to the chain of memories in my life. |
Additional Notes:
It's been just 24 years ago today that my hunting and fishing partner
came into my life. For several years he followed me around the woods
asking questions non-stop! Times I enjoyed teaching, times treasured!
Opening day of deer season, almost ten and a half years ago I wrote
this poem in my deerblind as thoughts filled my head as he looked, so
forward to next year! That next year came and went so fast, now today
a decade has gone by and he is no longer a hunting a fishing partner,
but a 'peer' who I gain much of my knowledge from. He has became a
'teacher' in his own rite, and also waiting for his new partner to be
born within the next few days, and he will then begin sharing new
ways and his own traditions.
(Please forgive the length of this poem, at the time it was written,
I never thought about posting it where anyone would ever read it!)
Happy 24th Birthday Jason, and by the way, thank you for ALL those
treasured links in the chain!
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