The Hunter In the Woods

Well met sir, in this silent wood Where I seek verse and you seek blood, I knew you were not far from here Your gun spoke loud, its message clear. I judged your day was a success I found a pheasant in distress, The shot you fired had pierced its eye Surprising that it did not die. Hung there are six I see are dead Their lovely plumage sodden red, They fell like hail from up on high Wide airs highway free where they fly. When you arrived here on the lane I knew your interests dealt in pain, You think your gun’s a lovely thing, Though nought but death for birds it brings. Of course it’s only birds you kill Just little murders give you thrill, Here for your quarry skulk and hide Out in this lovely countryside. These creatures that you hurt and maim Their yours,you bred them for the game, You put them in the wood and field The power of death o’er them to wield. You’re not alone in this delight Your dogs they wag and rush and bite, One fetched a bird with gaping wound, Your equal joy, though he’s a hound. So good day sir, your repast done Time once again to take your gun, Enjoy the horror game you play I’ll write my poems another day.