The Hunter
By Thena Smith

He hates to get up for work
And daily has to rush out the door,
Dreams about the day
When he does that no more.

Sometime complains of energy's lack
Falling arches or painful back.
Can't seem to remember important dates
But for special seasons, he waits and waits...

He's up bright and early or
In the middle of the night
Dresses by the stars
Or the dimmest of lights.

Cold doesn't matter
And distance doesn't count at all
This is the hunter
Answering the call!

He sits in silence
And waits for his prey
Once in his sight
It doesn't get away.

Once the hunter's instinct was so important
To feed and clothe us all
Nature has instilled this genetic trait in hunting men
And they must answer its call!