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The Mid Summer Relic Hunt (a poem)

Mid Summer Relic Hunt

by Bob Freeman

I love to go hunting in winter and fall
and Springtime too, till the grass gets too tall.
Then mowing, triming, taking kids to play ball
I'm gettin' so bored I beat my head against the wall.

When it gets to this point I jump to my feet
call up my bud's..it's time for us to meet.
They come to the door, I say boys have a seat,
there's got to be a way for us to beat this heat.

We've been settin' around and frettin' since May
and we all know the heats here to stay,
so no matter what happens, tomorrow's the day
..to hell with the heat we'll go huntin' anyway.

We load up the car with all of our gear,
run to the store and ice down some beer
I tell myself there's just one thing to fear..
if a copperhead bites you there's no doctor near.

Driving down the road and counting every mile
so many hills and curves the cars in single file
we're getting close now and I break into a smile
just thinking of all those relics laying in a pile

Here at last where the elusive campsite lies
finding the damned thing was almost my demise
A signal!... a button!... oh what a supprise
but I can't even see it for the sweat in my eyes

It's getting so hot I feel kind a' sick
while swating at mosquitos and brushing off a tick
I find that digging is really quite a trick..
the grounds so dry its hard as a brick

We're going home now, our finds very meager
my bumps from mosquito bites keep getting bigger,
But the biggest curse of a hot weather digger
is the never ending presents of the cotton pickin chigger

Memories of this trip I'll have total recall
until next summer when the grass gets too tall
with the kids out of school, and I start climbing the walls
I'll know once again...I'll never make it till fall.

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