The thrill of the hunt, the thrill of the chase.
Either have rarely applied in my case.
I’ve painted towns & I have played thru blue.
I’ve slung the drinks & had my fair share too.
I’ve been it, I’ve been him & I’ve been me.
I’ve bolted, I’ve stayed & learned how to be.
Most incarnations, I’d only exist.
Go & get along; do naught to resist.
I never did have ways, or means, or wiles.
I’d find my self in the weeds without guile.
Not much more slick with the advent of age.
Quiet & still in my patina sage.
L.B.Stowe 