Cold and Hungry

As the snow flies, a starving family, the winter has been very hard

Desperate, feelings of anxiousness, only crumbs, for the field mice

A butter knife, with one slab of butter left, but no bread to spread it

The potatoes have all been eaten, mashed, diced, fried, grilled, every possible way

The only thing left, is to starve, or to find, one last game, that might save the day

Blistering cold, I put on my hooded coat, made of grizzly bear hide, and my black powder gun

I sling it over my shoulder, I must find one or two more meals, for our hungry children

As I endure the flying snow, blinding me in my eyes, I hear a rustling around a wooded tree

Two, wild rabbits, scurry from a snow mound, as I prepare to fire, I pray, and the sound

Blows off, as one, then two, fall to the blood stricken white pillow, I cry, then sigh

A relief of pain, as I throw them into my deer pelt, gunny sack bag, I thank god, for one more

Feast, one more day, of plentiful bounty, so that my wife, and children, can eat from

The black pot bellied iron pot, over the firewood, and we can snuggle under a pine limb

We call a Christmas tree, and sing the old country songs of the season, just holding on, a revival

To what we have, until the next morning, the sun will rise again, and the cold and hungry

Child will be wanting more, as I bare the long cold of day, I will take care of them once again

For I am a pioneer, and my forefather's were Cherokee, and nothing can take us down to the ground, as we are the proud men of survival