Deer Season Poem by Donal Mahoney

There's always something.
Like the growth you found
under your arm
showering this morning
but you decided to go
deer hunting anyway.

Every year you sit
in your tree stand so high
no deer has ever seen you
and no other hunters
have ever come by.
Far out in the country.
An occasional owl hoot.

But today you were
checking your cell phone
and fell out of the tree
and now you can't move.
Both legs may be broken.

It's dusk and two coyotes
are walking around you,
getting closer.
You shoo them away but
they're patient and stay,

not even growling.
Maybe you can forget
about the growth you found
under your arm.
The good news is
no co-pay.