Could Be Anywhere...
Off a Hunting
Wind in the pines whistles
as the snow blows cold and thick.
Could cheerfully sell our souls
for some tender and a dry stick.
Been out hunting the old trap line
caught in this storm a brewing.
Temperature falling mighty fast
looks bad, and we ain't fooling.
Hunkered down under these pines
scraggly enough to offer little protection.
It's a getting darker, and we're concerned
about any further speculation.
Tried to shoot a plane awhile back
figured that way he'd a know we was here.
Speck we didn't even come close
cause the sky since has been clear.
Froze to death a hunting a deer
who would have ever thought.
Sure didn't see this end a coming
purty poor way a being caught.
It's funny the way a man figures
he ain't never going to run out of time.
And then when it comes right down to it
he ends up on his knees, in midst of a bind.
D.J. Burt 10/95 Cervantes
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there is only one...