A poem of thanksgiving


SHARP Gemstones WITH Tales

By Thor

(Charles W. Willis)

Stone points gave existence in skilled hands to individuals spread over the lands.

Individuals occasions have left, but on the floor sharp gemstones with tales are still found.

This story is of misshapen stone, dulled not by hitting rock or bone.

An arrow point most poorly flaked, which a boy’s success was staked.

The times waned short, the environment increased cold, the folks labored both youthful and old.

Fresh nuts and berry baskets full, keen hunters stalking buck and bull.

Dried corn and meat from forest animal, made ready for that thanking feast.

A youthful boy set to stacking wood with hopes for manhood understood.

To reduce his youth and become a guy he understood he’d to create a plan.

To search the animal and produce back meat, would surely provide him council seat.

For killing buck or perhaps doe, he understood he first should have a bow.

Situation and quiver from his brother, bow and something arrow, not another.

Following day the morning set to beginning, the arrow nocked, the purpose vanished.

A sharpened stone he’d need to flake for just about any game he planned to consider.

He’d seen it completed with antler tine, chipping and flaking points so fine.

Finding stone along with a chipping tool, he soon discovered he’d been an idiot.

The boy lacked skill he couldn’t discover the stone didn’t have point of any sort.

As time passes so short and drained, the hafted point was filled with doubt.

In to the forest by a trail, setting, searching for ears or tail.

With the trees came several deer, the bow was attracted because they increased near.

Awaiting three gives pass, the buck was still in brush and grass.

His breath held deep and eye on-site, the feathered shaft travelled high and right.

Once the arrow struck him within the side, the purpose bounced off his thickened hide.

The buck ran lower the wooded slope, departing the boy with blackened hope.

Dejected now, ashamed and lost, he found the arrow that he’d thrown.

Mind lower, unsure he’d done his best, he lay upon the floor to relax.

With disappointment running deep, he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

He automobile to clucks and feathered seem, a flock of turkeys throughout.

Nocked and attracted with hen immediately, he place the arrow in mid-air.

The sudden shot have been too quick it missed the hen and nicked a stick.

Then hit a gobbler within the mind, if this quit flapping it had been dead.

Success had include one small cost, the very first stone point he’d made was lost.

Youthful man and bird to thanking feast with corn and meat using their company animal

It was the poultry first we all know, taken by arrow shot from bow.

To become organized on woven mats, for whites with buckles on their own hats.

Individuals days have left but on the floor, sharp gemstones with tales are still found.

The moral from the story:

Every arrow once the bow is bent, must still depend on shot placement.

Resourse: http://fortbuenaventuramountainmen.org/2016/10/20/a-poem-of-thanksgiving/