This is what happens when you sit in the turkey blind for too long
“The Wooden Bow” - May ‘20
The man who draws a wooden bow
Has patience deep, that I know
Curves of beauty, warmth in hand
He prefers a coquettish brand
Prowess this hour but gone the next
Missiles asunder, confidence in vex
Only to find the bull on his next flight
Passion rekindled, a new height!
But To He who totes a metal thing
Practical purpose has more ring
It’s voice is heard by e’ry nurse of field
The clanks, the clangs announce its wield
And the man who draws the wooden bow
whose ears have heard this awful din
treads farther yon away from him.