The Hunter

Patiently, alone I stand
alongside the well traveled, dirt ridden road
Waiting, gazing through what seems to be a pinhole now
layers upon layers of dry, bark branches yeilding from the old oak tree
My green eyes barely, visual still fixated upon a large empty field of grass through the cylinder of an infared scope atop a twelve gauge shotgun
Quietly, I try to adjust myself as my arms are weakening from the long-gated grip I have held so tightly, on the barrel
Like an imposter does in pose
Still and steady
My legs growing heavy
As if they weigh a ton
from standing in the same footprints for several hours
Quietly, like a mouse
It feels like a lifetime
I call it a day !