Shot In the Dark

‘The buck stops right here’ he reflects cowering in the wheat field Near the stream drenched in cascades that had been so gentle Bull’s eye straight from the arrow of time presiding over the perch Night vision in place his hands tremble in awe of a silent prayer Telescopic sight enshrined in the moment of pasture and prey His focus increases for passing eternity to arrest in slow motion Lonely and hunted the marksman shifts habit and perspective Turns the gun on himself and asks for lunar guidance in fear Thoughts dwell on emotion whereas feelings ooze into reason Stars dangle from a canopy of transience to lift blindfolded urge A wolf cries for his mother caught in the rusty trap of desire Controlled breathing fails to calm the sniper’s firm grasp Harvest lies fallow as crimson glow slowly lifts its nocturnal veil Uncovers roots in the forest to the tune of a bald eagle’s wings Grim reapers return to their grave to rest quietly after hard graft Marble tombs pass like silent movies in the sharp shooter’s mind As he reads the insipid inscription on the wooden cross he bears Until he salutes once more to a life of tepid sorrow and anticipation 02 February 2020