The Buck

The light is fading, evening breaks Between the oaken woods and lake, It's time to finish with the row And homeward bound, the trail to take. With rake in hand I turn to go To find my pick axe and the hoe, When from the trail there ran a buck And right behind him came two doe. At first I thought, what rotten luck! I left my rifle in the truck, Then, as he stopped to look my way He gave his tail a flip and tuck. And then he spun and bounced away The doe behind him sleek and grey, Crashing through the brush and vine Into the woods and welcomed shade. He must have sported twenty tine I thought as Shadow starts to whine, Asking, should he give him chase? I pat his head in soft decline. The sun is gone upon my face To lose the buck is no disgrace, Although today I've been undone There'll be another time and place. Today the buck has rightly won The hunters gone, the season done, Perhaps we'll meet again next year Before the season's had it's run. The buck was ancient, and I fear He may not see another year, But then, another year is seldom clear For man, or dog, or antlered deer. Timothy I. Brumley