Morning Turkey Hunt Poem by Freddie Corgill Fred

In the early dawn, the woods come alive,
As hunters gear up, and their excitement thrives.
A crisp autumn breeze rustles through the trees,
As they set out, hoping to bag a turkey with ease.

The woods are still, but their hearts beat fast,
As they track their prey, stealthy and steadfast.
The calls they make echo through the trees,
Luring in the turkeys with tempting pleas.

The woods erupt with a gobble and a strut,
As the turkey approaches, their hearts in a rut.
The hunter waits, with gun at the ready,
As the turkey comes closer, slow and steady.

With a steady hand and a practiced eye,
The hunter aims and prepares to let fly.
The shot rings out, a sharp crack in the air,
As the turkey falls, its fate now unfair.

The hunter approaches, a mixture of joy and sorrow,
For they know the turkey's life will end tomorrow.
But they give thanks for the hunt and the meal to come,
And the memories they've made under the autumn sun.

Back at camp, they pluck and prepare the bird,
As they share stories of hunts they've heard.
The scent of roasting turkey fills the air,
As they gather round the fire, happy to share.

The day draws to a close, the stars shining bright,
As they reflect on the hunt and the delight.
For there's nothing quite like a day in the woods,
And the thrill of the hunt and the turkey that's good.