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On a Cold, Blustery Evening
By Brianne Cooper
On a cold, blustery evening,
I see footprints in the snow.
The footprints of a large animal,
I can tell by how deep they go.
The footprints, I think,
Of a deer must be.
I hear a crunch,
I turn to see,
The leaver of the footprints
Staring at me.
There was the deer,
A buck, with points numbering ten.
A prize most sought
After by men,
But tonight he has nothing to fear
This most cold, blustery evening of the year.
Keep reading!
Shaen
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