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 running 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 honoring pricked ears
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 lying 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