notch, fletching and broadhead

i am not a good communicator sometimes
sorry about that, i try.

shits real.

i sat in a tree
that was part of a clump
that lived in a field.
late october.
5 until after dark.
waiting
cold
layers of clothes washed in anti reflecting UV fluid
an apple tree less than 30 yards away
waiting
nose running
cold
back against the tree
platform barely big enough for both feet
12 feet up
bow across my lap
enough branches cleared
so i could draw the bow without making noise
sun setting
waiting
breath watching
listening
shhhhhhivering
white nylon rope painted black
to let the bow out of the tree after dark
falling on a broadhead is bad.
tiny slippery metal steps screwed into the tree
darkness
silence
anticipating being able to move
a doe walks around the edge of the field
a few leisurely steps
heading no where
a few minutes later wanders into the woods
cold cold
the focus fades and dark comes fast
ready to leave
climb down
walk to the old truck to meet up with the others.
'you see anything?'
'nope'
'you see anything?'
'nope'
'you?'
'i saw a doe at the edge of the woods'
'probably that same one i saw the other day'
'yup'
attempt to warm hands from truck heater
failed
home to hot chocolate and homework.