Five Sweethearts and Standposts

I met Ruth at the diner,

silver hair and kind green eyes.

I'm thirty-six, she's sixty-two; we were taken by surprise.

She told me of the farm she shared with her husband for

years.

She smiled at all their memories,

then brushed away a tear.

She said, "It's pretty come October when the leaves turn red and

gold.

The acorns bring the deer in when November winds turn cold."

Ruth, you make the evenings brighter,

And the old place feels like home.

I could sit with you till sunset Unless the north wind starts

to blow. Ruth, I might be falling for you; the signs are

pretty clear.

I hope you don't mind me

hangin' 'round out here.

I brought her mums and split her wood; she brewed a pot

of tea.

I said I liked her company; she smiled and sat with me.

Her late husband's honey hole sat just above the creek.

I asked her if I could hunt it.

She said, "Let's go take a peek." She showed me the creek

crossing and the ridge above the draw.

I said, "I'd like to come back when the leaves begin to

fall."

Ruth, you make the evenings brighter,

And the old place feels like home.

I could sit with you till sunset Unless the north wind starts

to blow.

I've been thinking I might settle

on your spot this year; Something 'bout your forty acres keeps me

coming back out here.

I set a ladder stand where her late husband used to hunt.

I put a trail cam by a scrape and then checked it

for a month.

Each Sunday I bring flowers and the camera card to view;

We scroll through bucks at midnight while she pours a cup or

two. She's always pleased when I come to spend the day with

her;

But deep down I just can't wait until November third.

Ten stands for five sweethearts,

two on every farm:

I've got ladder stands,

hang-ons too; each farm has its charms.

I love Ruth, Mabel,

June,

Darlene, and Louise;

I find each late husband's honey hole and then hunt it with

ease. I mix up birthdays,

forget names, but my setups all are planned- Five women think I'm

falling hard; I'm falling for their land.

Ruth, I love your laugh,

your coffee, and your land;

Your late husband's honey hole is where I made my stand.

My five sweethearts think I'm true,

but the truth is crystal clear- I'll have three more spots by

this time next year.