Opening day still two weeks away
I break out the camoflauge
Put the paint on my face
Camo' my shotgun and laugh
It's not loaded, but I'm on my way
A trophy buck will be in the rut
So don't think like a human
Be a trunk or a stone in the rough
Be seen but not heard, yet in tune
I turn into the wind with my crutch
A coyote comes home
And won't stay for his fear
Don't move and breath slow
Soon my buck will be here
His weight is two eighty or so
I'm not wrong and he's awesome
Standing six feet away
Both in shock and eyes locked
We find our souls are the same
His head bows and hoof claws
Moving left for my scent
Then center to right
Further left, further right, then left
And comes back to center to fight
Exits Left, as I say - Cigarette?
Robert Wynn
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/exits-left/
