The Provider

The clatter of wings
Flew upward and high
Turning leftward then right
As they blackened the sky

A hunter alone
Drew his shotgun to arm
Two shots rang in echo
Across field and farm

The hunter was pleased
As two birds fell to ground
His aim had been honest
As his swing came 'round

He envisioned the ducks
As he tied them with wire
Glistened with glaze
Roasted over the fire

He thought of his family
As he carried his kill
Of three smiling faces
In need of the meal

He sent up a prayer
“Thank you Lord for this game,
For making birds slow,
And for speeding my aim.”

Reviews

[Aneto]

I really like this one! Such a fun little romp through the thoughts, prayers, and perspectives of this provider. A well articulated and finely crafted poem.

~Aneto~