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Retired for many years and now re-discovering some writings, from long ago, along with new endeavor to help save my soul.

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Once again, I am in a rut.
Can't get passed, the and but.
I may be trying too hard this time.
To make the end of the sentence rhyme.
Not wishing to bore you with this mélange,
I hope that soon you will read the prose,
That I try to bring to a close,
As you, of all readers, might have chose.

He stands with hand to his chest.
At one time, he was this Nation's best.
There, with his clothes all a tatter,
People drive by and it doesn't matter.
He will ask for money for financial aid,
While embarrassed, but he is unafraid.
He served his country, far across the sea,
Now he is here with a diagnosis of PTSD.

We lived in Moscow, Idaho, for a short while
And I liked to go fishing, when I had time.
Not too far East, was a stream, just for me.
On this particular day, I did go,
To wet my line and catch some fish.
I'd fished for awhile, was up on a log,
With my fishing pole, in my hand, when
I spied a movement, a little down stream.
A Black Bear, Mother, with her cub
Was approaching my perch.
The moment was quiet, and very serene.
She hadn't noticed me as I was upwind.
I'm not sure, what went through my head,
But without thinking, I made a "Woof" sound.
The Bear stood up looking around for the noise
And my reaction was to look like a tree.
I didn't move or make a sound,
For a long while and the Bear and cub
Disappeared into the thicket.
I finally realized, what a fool I had been.
I moved slowly. Made my way to
The car and thanked God
That I had dodged trouble that I had created.

The Moon is full. The sky is alive,
With that bluish tint, that tries to strive,
To fill our craziest dreams. What is there
About a beautiful view, in the night air,
That brings joy to the children everywhere?
I wish I knew and someday we might,
Bring happiness and joy to all that night.

One again I am in the trees,
The snow here is up to my knees.
Our Jeep is high centered, you see
And our answer is to use a "Come along"
Winch, that requires a tree or a stump.
Slowly we move, one click at a time,
Pulling the Jeep over the snow hump.
Next stop, is a lineman's shack,
Which will provide shelter and warmth.
In the morning we rise early,
As we must find those elusive Elk,
Out in the woods we do ramble.
Quickly we are in this very big thicket
Of small trunked trees,
When I hear the noise, like that of a train.
A herd of Elk have decided to move,
Through these same trees.
Did we see them? No but hear them we did.
Another failed hunt, on this Winter day,
No meat tonight, as they got away.

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