Ode To the Archer

The sinew stretched taut, The yew wood begins to bend. This battle has long been fought And even now will not find an end. My sight’s upon the coming men; I will not miss my mark. Features of stone, my hands are still. I’d die for my brethren. I do not fear death’s dark. I stand here by my will. Bows take aim besides me, Shieldsmen kneel in front. Unknowing approacheth the enemy: We are reminded of the hunt. The king’s army stands as one, Our shadows are cast down As the sun rises in the east. They see us here yet do not run, With swords drawn they keep their ground. My arrow is released.