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