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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The places I go with my arrows and bow on glorious Autumn days. Barking squirrels and cawing crows pain staking miles that heal the soul In the light of day I stalk my prey anticipating any movement coming my way. Deeper into the forrest I go with only my primitive arrow and bow There are shadows cast of light on light which echo surreal color o're every tree and ripples roll o're every stone beneath the moss banked creek A Cougars den of twisted stump Show drag and bone of evidenced home Ah the thrill to know I too am hunted; Prey and predator never creep alone A bow huntress A life I seek to take but I shall not attempt a shot beyond my skill to make I'll loose my arrow swift and true No creature to feel pain of a miss undue A clean quick kill or no kill at all Such is my desire. Practiced skill to make it so for I own the wisdom to hold my fire A practiced craft A primitive fight Arrows with broad heads steady for flight I know in my heart I owe my quarry this There's some things more costly then merely a miss I sit up in the trees, in blinds and in brush waiting with patience for that split second rush Following trails left behind of those elusive beats in this garden I find to be one with peace, and peace of mind wind whispering their scent and that of mine Silently I pass to raise no alarm branches gently touch then slide from my arm Eyes to the path of the trails I follow To the antlers elusive hidden in the hollows The only noise the beating of my heart I was born for this I knew from the start As I raise my bow and fall to one knee as if in eerie slow motion Draw - then loose my arrow with awe and simple devotion THWAK - KATHUNK A creature is dead Now comes the true work for the tales to be said round the next gathering and the breaking of bread
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