I want to harvest a buck in full velvet –
shoot him with my high-tech bow,
and follow the broadhead of my arrow
to his chest and vital organs.
I want to take him before the rut,
while his neck is still thick, before
the width of it shrinks and his body
becomes ragged from chasing
the scent of every estrus doe.
I want a 200-class trophy buck,
his points spread wide, hiding
his anxiety, showing his maturity,
and his antlers in full velvet.
(Originally written 7/31/08)