I woke to hear the shots
Over the hill
Through the valley way beyond
I see the ducks
Making silhouettes as they fly
Through the dawns lightening sky
I cannot hear the whir
Of any roosters wings
No bells tinkling against the cheek winds
Holding tightly is the plaster
No boot will fit the leg
No matter how I may beg
The Beretta stands
Sulking in its bonds
Eley VIPs will not be shouting a hunter's song
The dogs turn thrice
The sun now shining through the mesh
They can dream their dreams of hunts not hunted yet
Have a great weekend Everyone...
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