The Hunt

To ride a horse and hunt with the hound, Is to find a hare that can’t be found. To feel the wind blowing in your face, And ride a horse in the wilderness of space, Is a joy that has hope in the purpose to find, A hare that runs with the wind behind. We heard in the distance bells that toll, While riding hard over a grassy knoll; For the hare was running within the shadows, Under the gate and across the meadows. She ran with the wind and couldn’t hesitate, For she knew a fear that held her fate. Between the mission and the means, Was desperation holding the schemes; Trying with luck to defy the haste, Knowing there was no time to waste; But the hare was lucky to find a hole, For she jumped right in and saved her soul.