Broken Old Stand

This is one of my favorites that I've written, there's a lot of feelings in this one, though it's just an old broken tree stand. 

Photo credit:   Helen Lacey

We ride by the same place

On every trail ride we lead

And the people always ask

About that old tree

“Why is there a ladder

Against that split tree?

There’s nothing up there

‘Far as we can see”

And they can’t comprehend

Little do they know

All of the stories

That old tree holds

This was the stand

Where I shot my first buck

And for years after

It’s brought me lots of luck

A modest eight-pointer

A big doe down the hill

A smaller one next year

And another buck still

It was also the stand

Where my mom sat one year

Five shotgun shells later

She claimed her trophy deer

But the tree has grown old

And one stormy day

Split it in half

And the stand fell away

And my heart grew sad

Because in all of our land

There was no better spot

Than that broken old stand