The Horn Hunter – To My Dad

Nestled far in the valley,
the river runs deep
The sun just rising,
over mountains so steep.

Trees are frozen,
in mid winter bliss
Branches near breaking,
on a morning such as this.

A blanket of white
covers the ground,
as the snow falls gently
not making a sound.

A black wolf watches
above the new fallen snow
As a lone man travels
to where the elk herd go.

Breaking the silence
upon his 4-wheeled beast
he pushes onward
not alone in the least.

This place, this time
few men will ever see,
the true beauty of God
as it was meant to be.

None except this man,
riding alone
hunting horns
far from home.

Love You Dad!

 

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