Bourbon and Archery

arrows missing their mark
a mellow glow
a smile greets the setting sun
glancing shot off the lawn mower
feigned anger, I loose another
it's not about accuracy
this is my time
the recurve and me
an arrow shatters another glass jar
making me laugh
sitting in the darkness now
in the grass
bow on my lap
the Makers hits its Mark
and the moon smiles