This closing day is bittersweet,
I hate to quit but, man, I’m beat.
Up each morning at half past four,
My eyes are heavy, my back is sore.
So what’s the cause, the driving reason?
Nothing else but Turkey Season!
To hear a gobbler on the roost,
Gives my weary soul a boost.
To see one strutting with his hen,
Cures whatever ails us men.
I’m one tired fella, yeah, that’s for sure,
But it’s something I’m glad to endure.
It’s been a Spring to surely remember,
And hold me over until November.
So I set aside decoys and vest,
Maybe now, I’ll get some rest.
George Bowers, May 2015