Down in the valley where the farmers corn grows there the trail begins and where it ends... some may never know! The old wise coon will play his tricks one by one and the hounds will hunt before the rising sun!! I hear my hounds bawlin trail they will not stop till they prevail! The trail is heard there voices rough the coon keeps going and showing us his stuff! The winds blow softly through the trees as I wait to hear the bawl of tree for the trails end is near! And then I hear it the most beatiful sounds the voices of my hounds, As I get to the tree I look up and am sure to see the old wise coon looking down and grinning at me, As though there is still one more thing to be done as I raise my gun I look up and the coons face looking at me..as if to say please do not shoot me. And then I know that I can not pull the trigger to end the hunt, instead I say come on boys our work here is done! As I look back to that day I still see that coons face if it was up to me I still say that old wise coon was a grinning at me!!!:)
This is a poem that I had penned down for a while now!!!
LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU ALL THINK!!:)
GOD BLESS!
Casey Houtz.
caseyhoutz@yahoo.com
