Fear

 I fear my grandchildren are beyond 

the redemption of the hunt.

Which worries me.

They may never know the primal truths

that hone a soul to be a person  – 

hard enough but more so when removed from trees

and hills and stream, learning game,

reading sign. 

All necessary to being better today than yesterday. 

Lessons that can be taken in.

I hunt and fish religiously.

In ways sacred, where knowing and honoring

and deciding in a split-second matter 

as the metaphysical realities they are.

Metaphors full of meaning the wilds give 

what no cities can.  I worry what kind of stories 

my grandchildren will tell sitting around a fire.

hootism:  for one day . . . i'd like to not waste a word.

-Byron Hoot

https://hootnhowlpoetry.com/