Give me a path
Thin or wide.
Which direction
I'll decide.
Toward the sun
Going up or down
What I find
Makes me smile or frown
A berry here
A thistle there
I'll shoot a dove
Without a care.
The hunt is able
The hunt is gay.
My hands are restless
Til I tire, today.
As we ponder life's meaning in jest,
The most we do is nothing, at best.
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