Red hand of the hunter
filled with the swept blade—
deft strokes unlimber
muscle, sinew, and bone.
Kneeling before the quarry,
back to the sinking sun:
red hand of the hunter,
the work has just begun.
Red hand of the hunter,
proficient from years gone by
in a craft too savage
for the naïve, urban eye.
From field, to truck, to gambrel—
a harvest grateful held!
Red hand of the hunter,
it so reverently felled.
Red hand of the hunter,
not a blemish, but a badge
on each of the kindred brethren
unwilling to beg or cadge.
