No Limit
by John P. Keltgen

From the time Mike was five,
he'd be up 'fore the sun.
He'd grab his big brother,
then he'd grab his gun.
Hunkered down in the cold,
'neath that old lilac bush.
With his pellet gun he'd wait
no matter how cold my toosh.
When he got older,
his habits didn't change.
Still up with the sun,
But chasing bigger game.
Sometimes with a shotgun,
Sometimes with a bow.
In a field or a tree,
Up high or down low.
No weather could stop him,
a true hunter he was.
If asked why he did it,
He'd respond, "Just because."
As autum approached,
he'd pick up his call.
Geese were his favorite,
he'd sit in the fields come fall.
Then one tragic night,
the hunts they would cease.
With one little slip,
We'd hunt no more geese.
But then as I thought,
"Where will Mikey sit?"
I knew without question,
The hunting ground with no limit.

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