Green Hills Literary Lantern

 

 

A Hunting Story

 

 

A man so capable, that if four pheasant flew up,

he would bag them all, even if three was the limit.

Quick with the 12-gauge, true with his aim,

he seemed ageless, a giant  of a man.

 

A day came when three birds flew up and not one shot was fired.

He trembled in anger and frustration

He steadied himself against a barbed wire fence

that ran along the ditch,

grabbing it with his bare hand, until blood flowed.

 

“Let go of the wire,” his son said.

 

Months later he asked his father, “how’s that scar?”

“That was a bad day,” his father replied.

“Yes, it was, but you’re my father.”

 

And a different kind of blood flowed

  

 

 

Ken White is a writer and photographer whose work—whether poem, snapshot, or spoken word—is consistently preoccupied with the interplay between everyday life and the unseen web of emotions, relationships, and spiritual practices that underlie the visible things we know. He recently received an MFA from Antioch University, Los Angeles.  His work has appeared in Dunes Review and DMQ Review and is forthcoming in Main Street Rag.