The Last Season
The sun was sinking low and so was my spirit
I kept looking and listening but could not hear it
The wind was blowing west l cared the very least
I sat in the stand thinking of a great beast
It was cold and and windy my neck stayed rigid
I wanted to go inside but chose to stay frigid
With the snap of a twig and the moving of branches
Came a biggest bull elk I'd seen on my ranches
He had a huge rack with numerous tines
I silently counted all twenty nine
A non typical elk like I'd never seen
My blood ran hot my senses became keen
I raised my old bow so many arrows launched true
I pulled back once more launched a shaft right through
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