Poem: You Haven't Hunted Ducks

Well, maybe you have . . . how would I know? But there's magic in it and if you've known flights at dawn and dusk, you're luckier than most.

You Haven't Hunted Ducks If mud has never sucked your boot,     arms full of gear and struggling And dumped you flat-assed,     hip boots filling ice-cold full The momentary worst that could happen,     happening Then you haven’t hunted ducks, my friend If you’ve never broken ice in sheets,     sliding one beneath another     to open a patch of water with frozen hands Watched with a friend or dog those open skies     where birds should be, but aren’t, nor will be To trudge on home, empty handed . . . satisfied Then you haven’t hunted ducks, my friend Perhaps you haven’t watched the dawn     creep from black and white to color Never heard the rush of wings,     before it’s light enough to see Or late afternoons, a sun that gutters out     and streaks the sky with forest-fire flame Then you haven’t hunted ducks, my friend If you’ve missed the solitude of listening     to birds that chuckle a mile or more away And haven’t watched a black Lab’s eyes     looking up and eager, ears pricked Felt the shiver run from him to you     and followed his eyes to teach your own Then you haven’t hunted ducks, my friend When winter fires bring no memories     of conversations held with friends And the dog that lies sleeping at your feet     dreams not a dream of watchfulness If you find yourself impatient for the news     and sound-byte stimulation Then you haven’t hunted ducks, my friend

This poem is included in Jim Freeman's poetry collection BROKEN PIECES available here in print or as an e-Book in your favorite formats.