Here's a little, I guess you would call it a poem that I wrote the other morning while I was just kind of in the moment, maybe a little cheesy but I kinda like it 
He wakes up well before the sun, packs just enough food and water to sustain him until he gets home. He drives to the trail head and begins his trek, even though he has made it so many times already and he is tired and sore, his passion drives his weary legs down the trail. He gets to his favorite spot and waits for daylight to pursue his quarry. A bull elk bugles down the canyon, and beautiful the sound may be, elk are not his opponent today. Though smaller and easier to take down they may be; make no mistake, this old mule deer buck is among the most worthy of opponents. He has earned his old age with his cunning and his constant suspicion of the predator lying in wait for him. Finally sunup and there he is, feeding at 85 yards, slowly making his way closer to him. He draws back as the beast comes into range. But he didn't see the other buck that just watched him and now knows of the danger they are in. The bucks bound away, once again stifling the hunters attempt on their lives. Such is the life of the western bow hunter until the magical day when his arrow flies true and he reigns champion over the beast.
He wakes up well before the sun, packs just enough food and water to sustain him until he gets home. He drives to the trail head and begins his trek, even though he has made it so many times already and he is tired and sore, his passion drives his weary legs down the trail. He gets to his favorite spot and waits for daylight to pursue his quarry. A bull elk bugles down the canyon, and beautiful the sound may be, elk are not his opponent today. Though smaller and easier to take down they may be; make no mistake, this old mule deer buck is among the most worthy of opponents. He has earned his old age with his cunning and his constant suspicion of the predator lying in wait for him. Finally sunup and there he is, feeding at 85 yards, slowly making his way closer to him. He draws back as the beast comes into range. But he didn't see the other buck that just watched him and now knows of the danger they are in. The bucks bound away, once again stifling the hunters attempt on their lives. Such is the life of the western bow hunter until the magical day when his arrow flies true and he reigns champion over the beast.
