On a cold winter morning
I set in my stand
Waitin' for a deer.
With my gun in my hand.
Hours go by, one after one.
I wish I could feel heat from the sun.
The temperature is dropping, my toes
Are getting cold,
Days like this can try a man's soul.
What's that noise I hear in the
Leaves
Is it a deer or only the breeze?
There he steps out, my heart begins
To pound,
Ease off the safety and put that buck
On the ground.
Meat on the table, fire on the hearth
I wouldn't trade this for nothing on earth.
Get up the next morning like a dang fool
Climb up in my stand, set on my stool
I say to myself I must be touched in
The head.
For I could be home and in my warm bed
But that's the way deer season goes:
You'll have some pleasures and you'll have
Some woes.

By Jones F. Kennedy

Jones F. Kennedy, age 91, is a retired furniture craftsman from Thomasville, NC. He is a Veteran of  WW II, US Navy Submarine Service. Mr Kennedy was an avid outdoors most of his life, hunting, fishing, boating (built his own racing boat), and in his 80's taught himself to play a pretty mean guitar. This poem was originally written as a song aimed at this hunting buddies. (He still goes to stand every hunting season and gets his deer).