Slowly, he treads back home, the luckless hunter;
Empty handed, he looks down in shame
For by the gate his wife awaits him, arms asunder
Praying he has, for the children, meat from game.
...
Read full text
a fascinating poem of a hunters shame when going home without any gain? well written!
thanks once again Tom. The predicaments of putting food on the table.
A gallant whose load is just a bow and an arrow...sometimes the hunt turns fruitless. thanks for sharing