A poem by Pat O'Cotter

Looking for placer pangar,
Loafing about in the hills,
Getting your grub with a rifle,
Taking your drink from rills.
Getting your bed from the spruce tree,
Taking your course by your dreams,
Just camping alone in the mountains,
Siwashing along the streams.

Locating the hind sight on Nature,
Traveling alone and far,
Thinking with no one to guide you,
Digesting the things that are.
Back trailing the life that's past you,
Peeping at what's in store,
Pondering over life's mistakes,
Wondering, how many more.

Dreaming alone of childhood days,
Regretting some things that are past,
Recalling lost opportunities,
And chances too good to last.
Living your whole life over,
Recalling the daily grind,
Thanking your God that it's over,
Glad that you've left it behind.

But still regretting your errors,
Sad for some things you have done,
Wishing that you had coppered some plays
As you count them one by one.
Now living a life, clean, decent,
For man never sins alone,
Getting a grip on your ego,
Coming at last to your own.

You dream and you hunt all summer
Till you notice a chill in the air,
Then you think of your warm snug cabin
And you feel that you'd rather be there.
Then you head over unblazed passes
Till at last you herd with your own,
And though you located no pangar
You are better for being alone.

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