The Hunt

I’ll trade mischief for quiet air
Wrestling for solitaire
November comes round once a year
This time, it’ll be all mine.

I might sound a bit insincere
Lose my mom of the year
But the truck is loaded with gear
And they’re off to shoot deer.

No dirty boxers in my path
No shouted curses over math
I’ll light candles, take a bath
Then buy shoes and new bag
But I’ll hug them when they're back

I waited awhile for those boys
My man and the little joys
To grow old enough to enjoy
The hunt, together for a week.

Now the cats and I have the house
I’ll sit around in just my blouse
They’ll nibble his mounted grouse.
I’ll maybe a visit a boutique.

No dirty boxers in my path
No shouted curses over math
I’ll light candles, take a bath
Then buy shoes and new bag
But I’ll hug them when they're back

Dedicated to Becky Schlegel by Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs.