The Hunters Return. Poem by Tom Allport
The Hunters Return.
Beneath snow covered jagged peaks
The frozen river gives sport
A watermill now sleeps
All covered in snaw
On a cold winters day
The sad hunters return
With their meagre prey
They trudge quietly and wearily
Under downcast trees most bare
Their tired dogs now
To tired to chase hare
A fire burns close by
With some cooking food
While wood smoke fills the air
The birds sing with attitude.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/24/2026 6:44:41 AM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
