i sit in front on my grandfathers shop where he collects and cuts his butchered meat i patiently wait in the dusk of sunlight soaking up the last droplets of summer heat deep mountain woods grow with the darkness as the scarlette sky turns to night and the stars come out; and the crickets cry i hold a rifle in my hand, but out of sight my grandfathers cigarette smoke fills the air cold steel laid softly, as i breath as little as i can tomorrow i’ll be dreaming of this moment now without any care, without any plans