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| Duck hunting in the snow. |
In the early morning hours, he rises from his sleep.
To feed his souls addiction, that only calls this time each year.
Ice, wind, and water... Most would shudder at the thought.
The cold morning air around him, would have most men distraught.
Surrounded by others like him, companions considered true.
Fixated upon the sky, in the early morning dew.
The whistling sound of wings, that echoes through the trees.
The burning smell of powder, that is carried through the breeze.
This morning brought a limit, but that's not what matters most.
It's the memories made and time with friends that he will forever hold close.
-J. Alex Lewis
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