The Buck

Swampy

I's done my share of huntin', no doubt 'bout it. I hunt gator, coons, whatever comes my way. When I's young, I had to hunt. Y'uns see I growed up in the swamp. Ain't nutting to eat in the swamp 'cept you hunt it.

'Course I don't hunt now. No need. And it ain't right to hunt jes for sport an' leave the meat out there for the crows. 'Cause those gators 'an deer 'an coons. They have souls too. I knows it 'cause I seen 'em.

So I mights be the last person you'd spect to share a poem like the one. But it got me when I read it...got me right here where my heart lives. 'Cause I's looked in eyes like that before and I's seen deer leap.

The Buck
by Rachelle Reese

 Blood stains your fur
a final mark above your heart
its rhythm silenced
Death glazes your eyes
a lifeless window
now your soul has leapt away
I wish I'd seen you soaring
soul and body joined
between the naked trees
instead