The Hunter and the Doe
It is a tale known throughout the ages
Of how a hunter ventured into the woods
In search of a doe.
And not just any doe,
But rather the most beautiful,
Wild,
And graceful of them all.
A doe that strutted across the evergreen
on slender legs that held her frame
as whistling winds converged on the scene.
The hunter squatted,
Scouted,
Waited,
Scaling the woods for the scrapes and rubs
And when he discovered the bedding
And caught the first sight of her
Upon the mound,
The hunter reached to aim his gun
But found himself enamored,
Spellbound.
That trophy hunter,
Stalker,
deer murderer,
Felt his chest heave and from his forehead
Escaped the sweat
Of a man who found love at first sight.
For she was such marvel to behold
He feared that his bodily scent
would alert her sensitive nose,
That she would bound away
Far, far away as if on magical toes.
He held his breath
For all the years he hunted
None more elegant existed
in his wildlife land of does
Copyright © Marguerite C. Anderson | Year Posted 2024
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