The
summer girl is coming back from mountain and from shore; she has upon her hunting
rack a dozen hearts or more. She is a hunter of repute, and deadly is her aim;
the summer girl can fish and shoot and always land her game. She stalks not in the
forest deep, to beat the bush like man, she swings her hammock, half asleep, and hunts behind her fan. A lawless hunter, woman
fair, no season closed for her; twelve months each year with skill and care she hunts without demur. With
every heart she makes a scratch upon her weapon stock; each year the record of her
catch would give the world a shock. She uses neither gun nor spear, nor needs a
hunter’s van; she stalks her unsuspecting
deer behind her magic fan.
Aug.
17, ‘09
No comments:
Post a Comment