Duck Hunting - Poem by Dwayne Bailey
Pitch black outside, ten below zero,
Man I am freezing cold;
My age is starting to creep up on me,
and boy am I feeling old.
But as the sky starts to lighten,
once black starts to turn blue;
My heart starts to beat a little faster,
my energy and strength are renewed.
Then I see the ducks in the distance,
take off for their morning flight;
I no longer notice the cold,
as I keep the ducks in my sight.
Slowly I start to call,
I see the ducks look my way;
Their checkin out my decoy spread,
and the safety that is displayed.
They circle once, they circle twice,
Then I see them cup their wings;
They are going to try and land,
oh what happiness this brings.
Ten feet or so from the water,
just before they land;
I bring my shotgun to my shoulder,
and steady it with my hands;
I squeeze the trigger slowly,
and let my steel shot fly;
My aim is true, my shot is perfect,
I watch the ducks fall from the sky.
Comments about Duck Hunting by Dwayne Bailey
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- TelevisionRoald Dahl
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda