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
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