TOWARD NEW LANDS

Back in his youth when legs were strong
he never could sit still for long
'cause every view however grand
held no match to newer land.

As the years passed by and he gained age
with each day an added page,
he still liked to see new scenery
while leaning against some random tree.

Autumn became his favorite time
when standing waters first showed rime
for this was the special time of year
when he'd go forth and hunt for deer.

He measured each year by its buck
which he would harvest with some luck
and with each deer his thinning hair
became whiter and his scalp more bare.

Until the hunts caught up with him,
old injuries made walking grim,
yet even so he still set forth.
By his quests he judged his worth

He still was led to heed the call
of new hills and hollows every fall
so he'd stumble painfully along,
his body weak but will still strong.

Then came his fiftieth opening day
which found him again far, far away
following a scant deer trail
resting more than when still hale.

Just atop that ridge ahead,
a big buck rising from its bed!
then trotting over the hill top
never pausing once to stop.

The old man decided he would follow
for he'd never been to that far hollow;
he moved slowly, quietly, without sound
eyes ahead toward untrod ground.

Those clear old eyes then spied a shape
which made a thrill run up his nape,
his rifle rose, he fired the shot
then walked to see the buck he'd got.

Old heart pounding hard, he took a seat
beside his quarry, prize, his well earned treat.
He thanked the buck for giving up his life.
With his last breath he thought about his wife.

To find him took a long, long while,
from his truck to him well past a mile,
his body beside that buck so grand
but his spirit now trekking newer land.

Still doesn't pass the read aloud test but I'm not finished with it yet