Today, I would like to step back into my college years, and write a different kind of poem. This poem uses the same spelled word but having different meanings. It is not as common as my other poems I have written, but it’s just a little different. I hope you enjoy:
I sat in the deer stand and pulled out my range,
Just to see how close the buck was getting;
One hundred yards out and moving closer,
I began to shake to the point of sweating.
He came in from a lower distant range,
So quietly and demanding his space;
His horns were massive and spread out,
He had a determination about his pace.
I recalled practicing at the gun range,
And my nerves were not on such a high;
But as he kept coming even closer,
My hands were shaking and I wanted to cry!
He looked so small in this mountainous range,
Until he kept walking upward closer to my stand;
I got my gun off safety and in site,
Then pulled the trigger with my right hand!
My voice belted out in a high-pitched range,
As he dropped from my aim of the heart;
I thanked the Lord for his gift of food,
And no suffering on the deer’s part.
Later I placed a deer roast in the range,
And smiled to myself in success; This blessing God bestowed upon all,
Is a gift I am grateful to possess.
