The Hunt

The only sound was my breath,
With the gentle crack of my step,
The woods dead,
Devoid of sound,
My breath slow,
Shallow,
Making no noise,

Alone I tread,
Through the jaws of nature,
Stalking my prey,
To cleanse the soul.

He avoids my steady stare,
Hiding deep beyond the trees,
With squirrels on the leaves,
Through the trees I come at last,
From present to past,
My father,
His before,
Have been here where I stand.

Alone I tread,
Through the jaws of nature,
Stalking my prey,
To cleanse my soul.

Head up looking about,
Sensing me in the air,
My presence disturbs nature,
Pulling a solitary arrow,
For the quiver fletchings of sparrows,
Taking aim as those before me hath done,
I let fly.
The arrow leaves slowly making no sound.

Alone I tread,
Through the jaws of nature,
Stalking my prey,
To cleanse my soul.

The joy of the hunt fills my heart,
I have my quarry and it fills me with joy.

Unknown "Jeepers" Adventurous - 16 years, 1 month, 7 days ago