Leave the rifle in the gun chest,
and the sword in its scabbard.
They will do you no good
on the hunt for inspiration….
It’s a subtler chase than the usual.
You can’t track it,
or search for spoor,
though sometimes it leaves clues.
That riff of song that leads to memory—
that whiff of scent that takes you back…
A long-lost postcard, your grandmother’s mink stole,
a thousand triggers waiting to be pulled.
Capturing that elusive spark
is only the beginning.
What you do with it once you’ve caught it
is the true test of the hunter.