Riveted to the grass in frozen alertness
Limbs ache from hours of wait
It may be a day of their not being impressed
Fooled not once by tempting bait!

It’s high time the liner shook
The trap lured the willing catch
There’s a pull at end of hook
Rewarded is all the hard watch!

In darned breeze the heart grieves
The quietude isn’t getting to grow
The noise from the rustling leaves
Incessant caws of the lone crow!

Are the eyes too weary from watch
Hands are not fully motionless
Or the clever prey feels not worth touch
And rather survive in hunger’s distress!

Eyelids feel heavy and this’s such prose
To be awake amid the wind’s lullaby
Till the day closes with picking morose
The empty bucket in melancholy!