I sit here fingers freezing,
Nose running, often sneezing,
Listening around me for a sound I’d like to hear,
Sitting in the woods, waiting for a deer.
I hear a squirrel rustling,
Birds chirping, flying, bustling,
The woodland life around me continues drawing near,
And I am sitting, watching, waiting for a deer.
Now the light is getting dimmer,
Shadows growing getting slimmer,
And now my time to sit is running out I fear,
I wonder will I always be waiting for a deer?
I’m out of light to borrow,
better luck may come tomorrow,
or maybe in a week, or not until next year,
but I’ll be sitting patient, waiting for a deer.