Goodbye hunting season! See you again next year.

*Disclaimer* I have nothing against hunting. I actually think it's great that Philip, my boyfriend enjoys it. Granted, I resent the fact that my dad snuck strange elk and deer meat into my diet against my knowledge growing up. I know Phil likes bonding with his dad and uncle, being in the woods, getting away from Pullman for awhile. And when I went with him, I actually enjoyed it for the most part. Hunting is a perfectly good hobby. Here's my issue. I hate that it takes Philip away from me for 6 consecutive weekends each year. I've seen people who make hunting more important than anything else. They neglect their families, and invest excess amounts of time and money into the sport. Phil is definitely not one of those. He proves it by skipping hunting when my birthday, or an equally important event falls on the same day as season. It's just that as busy college students, most of our free time lands on the weekends. We've been good about sneaking dates into Wednesday afternoons and making an effort to be active in each other's lives throughout the week. And his absence has given me the chance to have extra girl time! But I am so ready to have our normal hangout routines back. As of this weekend I am a hunting widow no more! (I wrote this poem while Philip was out shooting things and I missed him.)

Hunting

You are shooting deer
and my heart
drops.
Lifeless,
with the body,
into a crunch of leaves.
Sift through wafts of burnt candles
I catch your scent
freshly wetted bark
like a butterfly in my hands.
I peek at it,
it flutters away.
I run through trees
And see only wrinkles in the
blanket of green
that might be you.
Like fireflies,
the first snow of winter
falls.