The End of the Hunt

She came upon the forest
just as darkness begins to traverse the canopy of leaves.
Tired, worn, lacking the vigor of the morning.
She hesitates,
And judges her condition as to its soundness.

Her nose is clogged 
with the scent of the hunt.
Her ears plugged
With the sounds of the day.

She seeks safety among the tree roots,
susceptible to danger as she settles to refresh.
The strong, overpowering deadliness of her morning
fades as the vigor of the daily hunt runs its course,
leaving her vulnerable and exposed.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

Poem

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Andresen Avatar
February 11, 2020 at 2:21 PM
- A great poetic poem, Alison :) - // Anne-Lise :)
Hodges Avatar
February 11, 2020 at 3:05 PM
thanks! I just wrote it this morning, so it is in my sit and simmer pile to review and revise as needed in a week or two.
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