
Best to paint a better picture
without the grizzly details,
without the place the rifle takes
the task at hand—I know the way
and how to get back
digging a hole in hard ground.
I can’t replay all the faces
in my crosshairs, but
a compassionate man checks out
to play God
deaf to sentiment and fear
long enough to not like it—
better to have cattle trailing
the feed truck
to wherever it goes.
Wisdom here. A beautiful poem.
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Thank you, glad you liked it.
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