The Hunter
Waking early I hesitantly climb out from beneath the covers to greet the frigid morning, my breath visible with each exhalation. The sudden exposures to the cold enhancing nature's call as I move about in my small space. Dressing quickly in old clothes worn in layers to stave off the cold, I build a small fire that provides only enough heat to cook the meager meal I start the day with.
One must leave early to forage and hunt for life's sustenance and though each step taken is painful, I leave my humble abode searching for what may help me survive yet another day.
The only sound accompanying me being my own shuffling footsteps, I walk between the giant monuments to man. Reflective light allows me to barely see as I approach my first destination. The steel so cold and my only protection the rags wrapped around my hands, I move that which bars my way. The smell, though not as bad in the winter cold, still assaults my senses. The few pickings tell me that I was not the first to be here. I gather the few tidbits I find and head elsewhere hoping I will find that which I seek.
So goes my morning as I move about from place to place on my hunt.
As noon approaches, I enter where old friends, acquaintances, and strangers gather. We speak of good times and bad and share the latest gossip, then we break bread. The meal complete we thank the ones who provided it and go our separate ways hoping to be the first to find that which we all seek.
So goes the rest of my day as I move about from place to place on my hunt.
As the sun goes down and the cold of night surrounds me, I return to my humble abode and begin preparations for the long night. The loneliness falls upon me as memories flit about and so I force away the thoughts which cause me pain. I reflect upon the day I've had and hope that the night's dreams bring peaceful slumber. My last thoughts before sleep comes are of the next days hunt and I pray that I wake early so that I may be the first to find that which I seek as I rummage through the refuse of my fellow man.
Thus ends my day as the hunter in the city.
Randall J. Beers
© December 3, 2000
