(Crack Shot, 1957)

Proud boy

10th birthday bb gun

No more toy TV Wild West

six-shooter

Wyatt, Hoppalong,

heir of Roy and Dale

Out stalking game

no paper targets, tin cans

practicing for those hunting days

I’d find manly honor at 14

old enough for my own shotgun

Easter Recess, in the large playground

circling my two-room school

ducking under the jungle gym bars

(I’d knocked myself out there

fallen Tarzan of the Apes)

Into the grove of budding

shellbark hickory trees

50 foot up atop one

A Proud song sparrow

trills for love, in praise of Spring

perfect target

raising, aiming, squeezing

crack

b.b. pop right on spot

a loud silence

falling

that hush still rings inside

paper cutting glass