Shall we call it a hunt or a sit?

Spring, action:
As a child it was as little black three oh eight
Scoped, doped up on hot chocolate
In a tree 
For the foreseeable

Urine over the bar
While the woods listened to my rustling
And told me to shut up or shut down
I tried both

Wolf dreams at four AM
Followed by tingle toes
And brightsore snows
Eyes razzled 
Stink-frazzled

Too young for life
Too alone for death
I took both, granted ignorance
And never will go back