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